Adopted Love
by PinkFalcon
Summary: [AU] When Misty can't take any more of her sisters' verbal abuse, and she has nowhere else to go, a concerned Officer Jenny hooks her up with an old friend until she can find an adoptive family. Will Misty fit in with the Ketchums? PokéShippy. Yup yup.
1. Running Away

Adopted Love 

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,,*/ Adopted Love \*,,  
,,*/ PART 1 ~ Running Away \*,,   
,,*/ By Seabeast \*,,

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**DISCLAIMER:** I still don't own 'em. For the love of Nesbit, I can't even think of a title, do you honestly believe I could create all that stuff in the series!?! 

**WARNING:** There really doesn't need to be much of a warning here, just a bit PG-13ish because. . .I dunno. I forget. Oh, give me a break, here, it's a quarter to 3 in the morning! I think it might be. . .um. . .it might deal with some stuff later. . .maybe. . .I dunno. Ignore me. I'll go now. 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I'm back! Now it's 14 minutes to 3. I'm writing this after a typed up the fic, thank Mew. Yup. I finally named it! Be proud, people! Oh, a HUGE thanks to Psionic1 for giving me the title 'Adopted Love'. Without him it'd still be 'Currently Unnamed', so THANK YOU! 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE II:** Now it's 12 minutes to 3. Anywho, this fic is based on something that happened to me a while back. Lesse, I think it was Christmas of 2001. . .yeah, that's right. I think. If you wanna know more about it ask in your Review (and you WILL review) or e-mail me, my address jadensilver@hotmail.com. . .It's not a very thrilling story, mind you, so don't get all excited or anything. I just decided to make it PokéShippy, 'cause I'm PokéShippy, so I did. Yup. Any questions? Yes, you with the haircut that looks like my mother's. Why aren't I in bed? Well, I dunno I guess I'll go to bed now. BAI!!   
  


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-waves hand mysteriously as she imitates a Jedi-

** (Ewan!! ^_~)  
you _will_ review. . .you _will_ review. . .you _will_ review. . .you _will_ review. . .you _will_ review. . .you _will_ review. . .   
  


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,,*/ AL\*,,

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    Misty shivered in the crisp wind as it rushed past her, threatening to shove her over as she struggled to keep her bike steady on the empty road. Strong gusts managed to cling to her thin red jacket and pack, two of the few items she had managed to grab in her great haste to leave, and whipped them about furiously in an attempt to rip them away from her forever. 

    She pushed her way through town, using every deserted street and backalley she knew as she struggled to put as much distance between her and the Cerulean City Gym as possible. Usually Officer Jenny picked her up within a few blocks of the Gym, and Misty returned with very little argument, if any. But not this time. She never wanted to go back there again. Better she live out on her own than with her sisters in that nightmare they called a home. 

    The words of their last argument still reverberated in her head, making her pedal harder and harder as she tried in vain to shove them to the back of her mind. It was _not_ her fault that her parents had died. She had had absolutely _no_ control over it, just like everyone else. But then, why was Officer Jenny the only one to even speak to her about it? Even Nurse Joy, one of the sweetest, most forgiving people Misty knew, had been avoiding her eyes more and more recently. Everyone treated her like a convict, like someone that had gone to trial for something horrible and had managed to be acquitted, even though the townspeople knew she had committed the awful crime anyway. Whispers followed her wherever she went, from the Pokémon Center to the local grocery store. How could she ever live in a town like that? How could anyone? 

    Misty skimmed around a tight corner leading to an abandoned street she knew was rarely used and suddenly found herself shielding her eyes from someone's headlights. She quickly skidded to a halt and maneuvered her bike to one side to let the car pass. It wasn't until the unexpected car had turned back onto the larger road that Misty allowed herself a sigh of relief. It wasn't Jenny. She wasn't caught quite yet. And maybe, just maybe, she could make it out of town and continue her life as she had always wanted—alone. 

    She took the time to zip up her jacket a bit more before continuing down the narrow alley, and had only just started when she found herself bathed in headlights yet again. She frowned. She had _chosen_ this alley because it was usually _empty_. What was with all this late night traffic? Then she noticed the blue and red display of lights reflecting off of the faded brick walls and groaned. Why was _she_ always found out? Loads of kids must run away all the time and _they_ never got caught. 

    The squad car slowly sidled up alongside Misty's stopped bike. She watched in silence as the driver's window descended and Officer Jenny's face appeared, one eyebrow crooked as if she were saying, _Again_? When Misty didn't move Jenny jabbed a finger at the backseat. Rolling her eyes and grumbling, Misty climbed into the car, leaving her bike propped up against the brick wall. She crossed her arms and stared out the window as Officer Jenny backed out of the alley, trying not to show that she was at least a little grateful for the warmth of the car as opposed to the bone-chilling wind howling wildly outside. Neither made a move to say anything. Both knew the procedure well enough by now. 

    But it wasn't part of the procedure when Jenny drove opposite the direction of the police station. Misty frowned, the confusion showing in her aqua eyes every time the light of a street lamp flashed across her face. Jenny watched the girl's reflection in the rearview mirror as she wondered, not for the first time, if picking her up was the right thing to do. Maybe she really would be better off out on her own. 

     "Where are we going?" asked Misty suddenly, eyes narrowed as she watched the farewell sign of Cerulean City dart by. 

     "A drive," was the simple answer. 

    For a long while nothing more was said. Misty knew they were headed in the direction of Saffron, but that was all she could decipher from Jenny's abrupt actions. The girl let her mind wander, painting pictures of faraway places she had never seen before and yet knew existed somewhere beyond the borders of Cerulean. She had never really left the large city, save a small copse of trees she had found, hidden from the prying eyes of tourists. It was her secret spot, the one place she could go to calm herself after a fight with her sisters. A small stream ran through one side, just out of reach of the trees, and one particularly old birch had fallen over it and broken long before Misty was born, providing her the perfect place to lay and run a hand through the cold, gentle waters, soothing her nerves quite effectively. The water wasn't deep enough to house many Pokémon, maybe three feet deep in the largest of pools, but Misty often found small fish and minnows jetting quickly along the rocky bed. They reminded her of the small fish found in tanks onboard the cruise ships her parents used to take her on for long voyages over the sea. Those were the only times she had really left Cerulean. She longed to just leave one day and sightsee among the barely visible mountains in the distance, or the Great Plains covering the southern portion of the country. But as long as she lived with her sisters, she knew it would never happen. So why wouldn't Jenny just let her be? 

     "Not planning to go back this time?" asked Officer Jenny, eyeing the full PokéBelt hanging loosely at Misty's waist. 

     "No," said Misty stubbornly, returning her eyes once more to the uneventful dark rural road. They were now a few miles away from the city's edge. 

     "Good." 

    Misty looked up at Jenny sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

    Jenny sighed heavily, flipping on the turn signal with a small flick of her hand. She directed the squad car down a small gravel road and pulled up next to a dark green Jeep Cherokee in front of a large log cabin. Misty watched with interest; she had never seen Officer Jenny's home before. 

    Jenny cut the engine and opened the door for Misty, then led her to the cabin's door. The only sound was the crunch of gravel beneath their feet for a moment. Then Jenny swung the door open, flicked on a light, and crossed the room to collapse heavily into a thick armchair beside an empty fireplace, tossing her police cap carelessly onto a low-set coffee table. 

    Misty was a bit more hesitant. She surveyed the cabin from her uneasy position just inside the front door. All she could see was the dining room/kitchen and the spacious living room containing a weary Jenny, but the cleanliness of the place did not go unnoticed. The cabin was orderly and clean, with everything resting in its proper place. Misty stepped cautiously into the living room and saw pictures lining the wall above the fireplace and a few resting on the mantel. Most displayed Jenny posing with her relatives, but a few were taken while she was training in the police academy. Another was a plaque stating some degree, and one or two were taken of her posing with a woman with auburn hair and a little boy. One picture was only of the boy, who couldn't have been but seven or eight, playing outside with a Pichu as Jenny, who looked a bit odd out of uniform, sat and watched, an enormous smile on her face. 

     "Pretty big place for a cop," commented Misty quietly, eyeing the long hall rattled with doors and a staircase. 

     "I used to be a detective. Sit down, Misty." She indicated the couch across from her and Misty obeyed rather quickly, still nervous about why she was here. 

     "So. . ." Jenny trailed off, watching Misty closely. "What was it about this time?" 

    Misty looked down at her hands to avoid Jenny's eyes and said slowly, "I was Battling a Trainer and I let Lily's boyfriend's rice dry out." 

     "And. . .?" 

     "And that's it. She went ballistic. Started throwing things and yelling and stuff." 

    There was a pause. "So let me get this straight," said Jenny slowly. "You ran away because. . .you ruined your dinner." 

    "_No_," said Misty angrily, meeting the officer's gaze. "It wasn't _for_ me. It was just supposed to be Lily and Joey—_alone_. But then a Trainer challenged me to a Battle and—" 

     "And you forgot about the rice," Jenny finished. Misty nodded and let her eyes drift down to her lap once again. Jenny sighed and rubbed her forehead roughly. "Misty, this is the third time this month—" 

     "I know." 

     "—and it's got to stop." Misty lowered her head. "Misty, this isn't normal. Not every sixteen-year-old runs away from home every week." 

     "And not every sixteen-year-old has been accused of killing their parents," Misty muttered almost incoherently. 

     "What?" 

     "Nothing." 

    Jenny shifted on her chair and watched Misty closely. "Is that why you left?" she asked quietly, concerned. "Did they say you. . .that it was your fault again?" Misty didn't answer. Instead, she locked her eyes on a picture featuring the boy and what must have been his mother, desperate for something to look at. 

     "Misty, it's not your fault," said Jenny soothingly. She reached over and laid a light hand on Misty's. "You had absolutely no control over anything, just like everyone else." 

     "I _know_ that," said Misty bitterly. "But I can't help but think—" 

     "That your sisters are too self-centered to raise a teenager on their own?" Misty stared at the policewoman in surprise. She had known Officer Jenny since the accident and not _once_ had she heard the officer voice any type of opinion concerning her sisters aloud. 

     "Daisy, Violet, and Lily are excellent actresses," Jenny went on. "They're beautiful and talented. But they're not very good parental figures. Which is why I've decided to place you in a home—" 

     "NO!" 

     "—a very good one in Goldenrod—" 

     "_Goldenrod_? You want to send me to an orphanage in _Johto_?" 

     "Only for a little while, just until I can find a family to take you in—" 

     "Are you _crazy_? I don't want to go to the middle of _Johto_!" 

     "Then what do you _want_ me to do? What am I _supposed_ to do? You can't go on living with those girls, you're too young to live by yourself, you don't want to go to an orphanage. . .What do you _want_ me to do?" 

    Misty was hesitant, but eventually she said, "Let me travel." 

     "What?" 

    She met Jenny's eyes and held them, voicing her ultimate goal aloud for the first time. 

     "Let me become a Pokémon Trainer. Let me go out on my own and Train and sightsee and whatever else I can think of. I could join the Indigo League, I could—" 

     "No." 

    Misty stared at her. "Why not?" 

     "Number one; you don't have a legal license to Train outside of Leveling Up for Gym matches. Number two; you haven't taken any of the necessary classes." 

     "But—" 

     "No buts. Do you know how long Trainers train _themselves_ to be able to leave? Without the proper knowledge, you could die in a matter of days. It's very dangerous business." 

    Misty didn't respond. She didn't know what to say. She knew the older woman was right, but what other options were there? 

    For a long while there was silence, broken rythmatically by the soft ticking of a Meowth clock on the kitchen wall. Jenny blinked at the young girl sitting before her and sighed. 

     "Misty, you're a good person. You're pretty, you're a talented Trainer, and you're intelligent. But it's impossible for you to do anything positive with your life if you keep letting yourself be downtrodden by your sisters all the time. Who knows what you could be? You could set up your own Gym, you could discover the cure for cancer, you could marry the Pokémon Master—hell, you could _be_ the next Pokémon Master if you really wanted to. But _now_, while you're still growing and forming new talents, _now's_ the time for you to be free and discover new things. You're sisters aren't allowing that, and I can see how much you're suffering from it." 

    She paused, waiting to see Misty's reaction. After a few moments of silence the teenager lifted her head to eye Jenny cautiously and said, in a small voice, "I guess maybe you could find me a new home. I—It's just. . .that would be so _weird_. Living with new people from now on? Having a new family? It's. . .it's kind of scary." 

    Jenny smiled reassuringly and squeezed Misty's hand. "I know, honey. It's just that, well, these things take time. If not a temporary orphanage, where will you stay? 

     "Well. . .how long does it take?" 

    Jenny sighed and removed her hand to lean back in her chair and rub her eyes. "It depends," she sighed. "Sometimes a week, other times a month or two. Some people never find homes." 

    Misty hesitated before asking her next question. "Can I. ..stay here with you?" 

    Jenny stared at the young girl, flattered, and blinked away a tear. She had never had children, her police work prevented her from getting involved in many serious relationships, and she found that reaching out to troubled young people was more rewarding than any other activity imaginable. That this girl trusted her enough to ask to live with her made her both joyous and troubled at the same time. The only person Misty could trust enough to talk to was the police officer that picked her up off the streets from time to time. It made her wonder just how bad Misty really felt at home. 

     "Misty, look at me." She waited until Misty met her eyes before continuing. "I would _love_ for you to stay here with me for a while. I truly would. But my job, well, it calls for most of my time. It wouldn't be healthy or fair to leave you at home alone all day." 

     "I can take care of myself," Misty mumbled. 

     "Yes, you've proved that, but I still can't do it. Not if you're not legally my child." 

    They both fell silent for a moment, trying to think of another solution. Jenny sighed heavily and asked if Misty was sure she didn't want to go back to her sisters, to which she got a hurried affirmation. She sighed again and once more the pair was lapsed into silence. 

     "How about this," said Jenny suddenly, and Misty perked up to listen. "You can stay here for the night," she continued, "that's why I brought you here in the first place. I'm off tomorrow, so we can try to find someone to take you in while I find you an adoptive family. Is that all right?" 

     "I guess so. . ." Misty trailed off. "I just. ..I don't like the thought of living with strangers. What if they're just as bad as my sisters?" 

     "Hmm. Maybe we can fix that. . ." 

     "What do you mean?" Misty asked. She didn't have close enough friends in Cerulean to take her in for a few days, unless you included the man that came to clean the pools every other week. He was nice, but he was old enough to be her grandfather. 

     "I have an acquaintance that I'm sure would be happy to support you for a while. Her husband passed away a few years before your parents, and the welfare money is enough to support her and a family without working." 

    Misty frowned, an image of an old widow presenting her with a tray of stale cookies appearing in her mind. 

     "Don't look at me like that," said Jenny, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Her son, Ash, is your age, and a Pokémon Trainer at that. You might actually enjoy yourself." 

     "How do you know them?" Misty asked, curious. 

     "I was one of the investigators stationed on her husband's murder case." 

    Misty looked alarmed. "Her husband was _murdered_?" she exclaimed. 

     "Well," explained Jenny, looking rather flustered, "I guess that's what I get for shooting my mouth off. No, it was never officially _proven_ that he was murdered, I'm just one of the few people that believe so. Most people believe it was an accident. Apparently, Cypress Ketchum had been hot on the leader of Team Rocket for some time. In a Battle to defend his Title years ago, his opponent's Rhydon went haywire and killed him. By the time authorities got the Pokémon under control the Rhydon's Trainer was gone." 

    Misty stared at the older woman in disbelief. "Are you saying that you investigated the assassination of the Pokémon _Master_?" she said slowly. 

     "Yes, but it was my last case," said Jenny sadly. "I left the investigative field after that and became an ordinary policewoman instead. Although nothing could be proven at the time, I believe that the Rhydon was owned and Trained by a member of Team Rocket." 

     "Really?" Now Misty was interested. 

     "Yes, but you can't go around telling people that," warned Jenny, a stern expression on her face. "Especially not Ash. Technically, I shouldn't even be telling _you_." 

     "Why not?" Misty asked curiously. The assassination of history's greatest ever Pokémon Master nine years ago had been a huge issue, even though that was all she could remember of it. 

     "Because that is merely my belief and opinion," said Jenny evenly, as if she had rehearsed it more than once. 

     "If you're still close friends with Ash, why doesn't he know?" 

    Jenny sighed and adjusted her legs underneath her for comfort. "There was never enough physical evidence to prove that Cypress was deliberately killed by someone, so the case was abandoned. I fear that if Ash ever discovers that Team Rocket killed his father, he'll take it upon himself to go after them." 

    Misty blinked at the officer. "He'll what? No one would be _that_ stupid—" 

     "Not stupid," corrected Jenny. "He's stubborn and prideful, like you. What would you do if you suddenly discovered that your parents' death was planned? Wouldn't you want to confront their killers?" 

    Misty looked down at her hands, knowing full well what she would do if she found out her parents had died under someone else's hands. 

     "You see?" said Jenny gently, watching her reaction. "We'll call Delia in a few minutes, but you've got to promise me that you won't mention anything about Cypress's death to Ash, all right?" Misty nodded. "Good. Now go get the phone; their number's on speed dial." 

    Misty looked up at her sharply, alarmed. "You don't want _me_ to call—" 

     "Yes, I do." 

     "But—" 

     "Misty. . ." The girl was silenced by Jenny's arched eyebrow. "I'm doing something most police officers wouldn't do—" 

     "I know." 

     "—but I'm not doing it alone. _You're_ going to call her up and _you're_ going to ask if you can stay for a few days." 

    Misty sighed heavily, accepting her instructions. _Anything_ was better than returning to her sisters right now. 

    Jenny pointed her into the open kitchen and Misty saw the Vid-Phone resting peacefully on a counter opposite the living room. She dragged her feet slowly over and ran a finger down the speed dial numbers taped to the back of the receiver until she found Ketchum, starting slightly when she realized it was a Pallet number. That town wasn't even a quarter the size of Cerulean. This was going to be different, but she was up to a challenge. Or so she hoped.   
  


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    Something, somewhere, was making a loud noise. A loud, obnoxious, beeping noise. 

    Groaning, Ash rolled over and out of bed, glancing at the glowing red digital numbers of his alarm clock as he threw off his covers and shivered in the chilly night air. Someone had left a window open. He remembered he had had to sleep on the top bunk a second too late and ended up sprawled out on the bedroom floor, one leg hooked up in the sheets like a cast. And still the phone rang. Cursing, he disentangled himself from the fabric and managed to stand, although a bit wobbly from sleep. Only his mother would call at two o'clock in the morning, he concluded. 

    Grumbling about Pikachu's bladder problem, he stumbled down the stairs and over to the Vid-Phone in the kitchen. Rubbing sleep dust from his eyes, he grabbed the receiver and pressed the flashing picture button at the same time. 

     "Hullo?" he yawned as the picture appeared.   
  


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     "Officer Jenny, I don't think they're—" 

     "Hullo?" 

    Misty spun around in mid-sentence, staring openly at the boy before her. His mussed kuroi hair was sticking out all over the place as if he had just rolled out of bed. He was busy rubbing something out of his closed eyes with both hands, the phone receiver balanced loosely between his ear and his bare shoulder. Misty couldn't help but notice his tanned, lightly muscled chest as he wasn't wearing a shirt, and she blushed when she heard a giggle from behind her. 

    The boy must have heard the giggle, too, as Officer Jenny had ironically purchased a speaker phone, and he stopped rubbing his face to blink at her, awaiting his golden brown eyes to adjust to the bright, self-illuminating screen. When he saw her his eyes widened slightly and he blushed. Misty blushed, too, when she realized he was clad only in a pair of blue-striped boxers. 

    "Erm—I'm looking for a Mrs. Ketchum," said Misty nervously, trying to keep her eyes on his as they suddenly seemed to have a perverse mind of their own. 

    "She's uh, she's not home right now," the boy said uneasily. He looked like he really wanted some pants. "I'm her son, Ash. Can I uh, can I help you?" 

    "Um, well. . ." Misty glanced back at Officer Jenny, who looked thoroughly entertained by the scenario. "Officer Jenny. . ." she pleaded. 

    "Wait a minute," said Ash suddenly, "are you the owner of that Ponyta we fainted?" 

    Misty turned back around and frowned at him. "What?" 

    "Because me and Pikachu are really, really sorry. We didn't know it belonged to anyone and my mom _refuses_ to buy me a car, and I thought I could really use the fast means of transportation, and I honestly didn't know it was just a foal—it _looked_ like an adult—and I would really appreciate it if you didn't get the police involved because I have _zero_ money to pay off a sue thingy, and I—" 

    He stopped when he heard someone laughing. Officer Jenny stood grinning behind Misty, deciding to take over as she sensed the scene to be getting a little out of hand. 

    "Ash, why aren't you wearing any pants?" she giggled. Ash blushed, avoiding her eyes and crossing his arms over his bare chest, balancing the receiver on his shoulder. His blush deepened when he recognized the Jenny as that of Cerulean, a close friend. 

    "Well, you see, it's kind of a long story. . ." he trailed off, hoping she'd drop it, but she merely crooked an eyebrow. Ash sighed. "Pikachu had an accident, _again_, and she got it all over the sheets and a little on my pants, so I just threw them off and climbed to the top bed. I thought you and uh, her, were going to be Mom, so I didn't bother getting out a clean pair. Satisfied?" 

    Jenny smiled. "Where is your mother, Ash? I need to speak with her." 

    "She's staying at Uncle Drake's until the morning. Why? Who's that girl with you?" 

    Jenny grabbed Misty's retreating shoulders and pulled her back to face Ash, ruining her only chance of escape. "You two may as well get acquainted now," she said. "Misty, this is Ash Ketchum. Ash, meet Misty Waterflower. She might be staying with you for a few days." 

     "Why?" Ash asked, avoiding Misty's eyes. He didn't want to be rude, but why would Officer Jenny call at two in the morning to ask if someone could come over? 

    "Family issues," said Jenny simply. "Sorry to wake you up, Ash, I forgot about the time difference. Just tell your mom to call me when she gets home tomorrow, okay?" 

    "All right. Um. . ." Ash didn't know what else to say. Jenny grinned at him, glanced down at Misty, who looked like she really wanted to leave, and then back at him, and winked. Ash's blush continued to creep up his cheeks even after the screen had fizzled out. 

     "Pika pikachu, Pikapi?" 

    Ash jumped, spinning around to see Pikachu sitting calmly at the foot of the stairs with one eye and one ear crooked. "Pikachu pika pi _kachu_—" She was cut off by her own laughter at Ash's blush as the human glared at the mouse. 

    "You'd do yourself good to watch your mouth," he said evenly. "As if you aren't in a deep enough hole for making me answer the phone without any pants—" 

    "Pi KAAA!" Pikachu flopped over in laughter, her small paw clutching her belly in an attempt to breathe as her body was wracked with uncontrollable giggles. 

    Ash stomped over to her, his face thoroughly reddened. "It's _not_ funny, Pikachu!" he said, grabbing her off the floor and dragging her up to his room. 

    "Pikapi piKA Pikachupi," Pikachu giggled. Ash dropped her gently on the lower bunk before climbing up to the top. 

    "I do _not_," he said stubbornly. "She's just an ordinary girl. I've met and Battled tons of girls before, why are you teasing me about this one?" 

    "Pika pikachu kachu," said Pikachu simply. "Pika pikachu pikachu chu." Ash stared at her as she curled into a tiny ball on the bed below him. "Pikachu, Pikapi." 

    "Goodnight. And I _don't_ think she's pretty." 

    Pikachu smiled and mumbled something incoherent before wrapping her jagged yellow tail around her body and promptly falling asleep.   
  


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**AUTHOR'S NOTE III:** First chapter done!! And now I should go to bed! REVIEW IT!!!! NOW!!! (or e-mail me: my addy is at the top) Please? I don't even care if it's a flame, as I tend to find them quite humorous. You know what's NOT humorous? What's NOT humorous is coming home from a vacation in Colorado with your dad to find a 2½ foot pile of textbooks sitting on your bed for your sophomore year of high school starting in 3 days. That's not funny. That's not funny at all. . . 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE IIII:** No, I don't have anything else to say, I just wanted to put in four ANs. There. I outdid Star Wars. No, wait, there were 6. . .Dangit! 

**,,*/ a very tired Seabeast \*,,**

1 


	2. The Guest

Adopted Love 

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,,*/ Adopted Love \*,,  
,,*/ PART 2 ~ The Guest \*,,  
,,*/ By Seabeast \*,,

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**WARNING:** This chapter's completely clean, honest. A little boring, yes, I'll admit, but otherwise clean. **–yawns sleepily-** Oy, I need to get to bed. . . 

**DISCLAIMER: -sigh-** Still not mine. Do I sound depressed to you? It's one in the morning, again, and I'm finally done! Woo-hoo! But really, though, what is it with me and finishing my fics really late at night? Then again, just be glad I finished it! _Harry Potter 5_ is coming out in exactly four months! Yay! ^^ 

**DISCLAIMER II:** Whoo-hoo _again_! I mean, how many fics out there have not one, but _two_ **Disclaimers**? Well? How many? Hm, I guess if there are two I should actually **Disclaim** something, huh? Well then , I Disclaim Pokémon, FFX, Yu-Gi-Oh!, and um, Crash Bash. Yes, my fellow fanfickers, Crash Bash. Why Crash Bash? Ye shall soon see. . .o.O 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: -in a Boston accent-** Ha! I'm finally done! And I didn't even scuff my loafers! **–looks around at people staring at me-** What? I like Clone High! **Nothing ever happens to the Kennedys!** Erm, yeah, I'm done with that for now. It took me for_ever_ to write that stuff after Jenny left, though! Jeezohs! Wait, why am I telling you this now? You haven't even read it yet! Well then, by all means, people, read on! Read on. . .   
  


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     "So. . .when are they gonna be here?" 

    Ash leaned his head over the back of the living room couch—careful not to spill his soda—and watched as his mother filled the sink in the kitchen up with dishwater and began piling dirty plates and cups onto the counter beside her. 

     "Oh, I don't know, dear," she said absentmindedly, distracted by her mission to find a clean dishrag. "If they're coming from Cerulean, they'll have quite a drive ahead of them." 

    Ash sighed and sunk deeper into the couch, propping his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table and draping his free arm over the back. Ever since he had given his mother Jenny's message she had been cleaning (although Ash couldn't really see why, as she and Mimey kept the house almost immaculately clean most of the time anyway) and Ash had been waiting somewhat, if not just a little, patiently. It was the middle of summer and he had had nothing better to do anyway, so why not slouch around the house and play videogames until that girl got here? 

    But Pikachu had long since gone out exploring the woods near their house, leaving him without a good Mortal Kombat opponent, and Leveling Up on the Mi'Ihen Highroad in Final Fantasy X was getting to be quite boring, which left him with nothing of any particular interest to do. He sighed heavily and slurped down a little more of his already warm and flat Mountain Dew. Pallet was boring. It was already three in the afternoon and, well, he wasn't going to wait much longer. Riffling around underneath him, he managed to fish out the remote and a load of stale popcorn from between the couch cushions, and then quickly busied himself with channelsurfing. 

    If she wasn't here before Yu-Gi-Oh! ended, he was leaving.   
  


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**   
  


    Meanwhile, a mere forty miles from Pallet's northern edge, Misty was having second thoughts. 

    She had watched the scenery outside her window shift from the familiar hilly plains surrounding Cerulean, to the impossibly tall skyscrapers that formed Saffron and Celadon, to the great aged trees of Viridian Forest, and, finally, to the soft rolling meadows that created the Great Plains of the South. Truth be told, there wasn't much to look at, which gave Misty's naturally inquisitive mind plenty of room to wander. She did not want it to wander, she wanted it to stay put on a tree, a rock, _anything_ to get it off of her stomach, which was flipping over itself so many times she wondered how it could still be attached. 

    Jenny noticed her squirming in the passenger seat of her fairly new Jeep Cherokee and inwardly sighed. She had tried explaining to the young girl that everything would be all right, that the Ketchums were good people that would probably make her feel more at home than her sisters had, but she supposed there was nothing she could say that would completely quell the swarm of butterflies that must have been eating her from the inside out. Jenny remembered well the time that she herself had had to momentarily switch homes while her mother, who just happened to be the Chief Jenny of Goldenrod, investigated a special case too dangerous for her daughter to be present for. Sure, Jenny's cousin's family had turned out to be a great little home-away-from-home, but the anxiety she had felt on the trip over there still haunted her today, if she allowed herself to think about it. 

    So what could she do to make Misty feel better? What would have made her feel better on the car ride to her cousin's that nerve-racking day? To be honest, she didn't know. All she could hope for was that Delia gave them a warm welcome, which Jenny was sure she would do, and that Misty settled in quickly. With any luck, Jenny would find the poor girl a home within a week or two, and then. . .and then Misty would have to go through all this all over again with a completely new family, only this time Jenny wouldn't know a thing about them. Jenny's face fell. 

    "Are we almost there?" Misty asked quietly, breaking the silence that had engulfed them since Viridian. It was more a confirmation of her sealed fate than a question, and Jenny felt a pang of guilt slash through her chest. Was this really the right thing to do? Was she _sure_ there were no other options? 

    "Another half hour or so," said Jenny, keeping her eyes on the road. Maybe she could pull Delia aside and give her a few tips on Misty's preferences? Would that help to settle her in a bit more? 

    "So. . .where exactly do they live? In Pallet, I mean?" 

    Jenny glanced over at the Water Trainer softly. She was a trained police officer and a former investigator. She was trained to see through people's words and into their intentions. And if Misty wanted to talk to keep her mind off of her immediate future, well. . .at least Jenny could do that much for her. 

    "Well," she began, "before Cypress died he built his wife and son a beautiful white house on the northern edge of town, with a garden for Delia and an enormous backyard for Ash. Looking out from the upstairs window, you're treated to a marvelous view of the ocean—" 

    "Really?" Misty's eyes were wide. "You. . .you can see the ocean from their _house_?" 

    Jenny smiled. "Of course. And at sunset, you can go out to the cliffs and watch the sky shift from blue, to red, to orange, to purple. . ."   
  


**

,,*/ AL \*,,

**   
  


    "Oh, no. . ." 

    Delia Ketchum gutted the refrigerator in a panic, shifting through plump, ripe tomatoes, moldy something-or-others from the week before, and a colony of macaroni and cheese that seemed to be creating ranks among the noodles as they plotted to take over the bottom shelf, but the search was in vain. There, that might be—no, it was the leftover ham from Easter. Wait, Easter? What was _that_ still doing in here? 

    "Ash!" she yelled, straightening for the first time in hours and wincing when a pop or two issued from her back. She was getting too old for this. "_Ash_!" 

    "Mister mime?" 

    "Mimey, do you have any idea where that lazy son of mine is?" Delia asked, tossing various food items into the trash. "I told him to take this ham over to Professor Oak's almost two months ago!" 

    "Mister mime, mime!" 

    She straightened abruptly at Mimey's comment, and muttered a few choice words when her head hit the tiny light bulb at the top. Withdrawing from the accursed fridge, she rounded on her helper. "What do you _mean_ he went to the beach? He's supposed to be helping me tidy up!" 

    Mimey looked confused. "Mister mime, mime, mister mime." 

    "Oh, his Totodile's Level is high enough!" 

    "Mime?" 

    She sighed. "I'm sorry, Mimey, I know it's not your fault." 

    "Mime, mime?" 

    "Well, it looks like we're out of chicken. And Jenny will be here any minute now. You think the kids'll like pizza or something tonight? I don't have enough time to run to the store before they get here." 

    "Mister mime!" 

    Delia smiled. "Well, that's good. Come on, help me put this food away and then we should be about done." 

    "Mister!" 

    She had no sooner closed the refrigerator for good, the still-edible food tucked neatly inside, when the doorbell rang. Meeting Mimey's naturally cheerful, bright blue eyes, both of their faces split into wide grins. "They're here!" said Delia excitedly. 

    "Mime!" Mimey cheered. 

    "Does my hair look all right? Did I get that dust off my clothes? Ooh, do you think she'll like it here?" 

    "Mime, mime!" confirmed the Pokémon happily, brushing off a spec of something from her shoulder with a large hand. 

    Countless questions raced through the single mother's mind as she rushed for the front door: Would Misteara like it here? How long would she be staying? Where was that sneak son of hers? Did she remember to wash the towels? 

    Mimey kept to the side as Delia stepped up to the door and did a last-minute once-over of herself before placing a quivering hand on the doorknob. Winking happily at Mimey, who flashed her a thumbs-up, she swung the door open—not too fast, she reminded herself—and grinned. 

    Jennifer was standing on the front porch, her hand posed to ring the bell again. She beamed when she saw Delia, and the two women exchanged hugs and greetings, each smiling brightly and commenting on how the other looked so much better than them. Mimey jumped up and down happily from the threshold, completely ignored. 

    "Oh, Jenny," blushed Delia, waving off the officer's remark concerning her physique. "You know I don't have enough time to exercise now that Ash is home. And just look at you! Why, I don't believe I've seen you out of uniform in _years_!" 

    Now it was Jenny's turn to blush. "Well, I have been kind of busy lately, with school being out for the summer and all." 

    Delia made a face. "Oh, I know how that feels. Did you know that Ash has done _nothing_ but play videogames and mess up my clean home since the day he was let off? Why, just the other day he was struck with the brilliant idea to search for a Grimer in the Bottoms, and what did he do when he got home? Galumphed all about my house in his shoes and everything! Mud was _everywhere_!" 

    Jenny laughed, and it was now that Delia noticed a young girl standing a bit behind her old friend and off to the side, a large backpack slung over one shoulder and a single suitcase resting on the porch near her feet. Delia grinned, taking in the girl's scruffy appearance without a single negative thought. She slid into mother-gear so swiftly she hardly felt the change, and had to restrain herself from swallowing the teenager in an enormous mom-hug. 

    "You must be Misteara," she said sweetly, smiling widely. The girl's clothes looked far from new, but suited her well enough. Her fiery orange hair was pulled back into a crooked ponytail, but Delia could imagine how wonderful it would look down. She looked like she wanted to go home, and kept dipping her head to avoid Delia's eyes. When Mrs. Ketchum finally managed to catch them she almost gasped in surprise. They were a brilliant mixture of blue and green, and while the rest of Misteara's young frame looked worn and almost passive, her eyes clearly stated that this girl was strong and determined inside, and could probably match wits with anyone, given half a chance. 

    Misteara's eyes fell again under Delia's gaze, and the older woman felt a pang of concern deep within her. Ash's eyes never backed down under someone just because they were older or unfamiliar. What could she do to give this poor girl Ash's confidence? A plan immediately took hold in her mind as she imagined what she would do to help this young girl in need. Why, by the time she left she would be so happy and buoyant that she'd probably never have trouble with new people again! 

    "Well, Misteara, I'll be glad to have you here for a few days," she said amiably, her ideas still forming. Oh, Misteara would just _love_ it here! 

    The teenager lifted her eyes slowly. "Um, it's just Misty, ma'am." 

    Delia caught the girl's eyes and smiled kindly, enticing Misty to do the same. "And I'm just Delia, dear. Would you like to come inside?" 

    Misty looked up at Jenny, who nodded an affirmation. Delia led the pair in to the living room, where Mimey snatched the suitcase and backpack from Misty's hands and scampered up the stairs with them, returning again in a moment or two with an enormous smile on his pale face. Delia laughed at Misty's look of confusion. 

    "Don't mind him, dear," she told Misty. "He's just been so eager to help out since we got Jenny's call this morning. Mimey, would you be a dear and put some tea on for our guests?" 

    "Mister mime!" 

    Misty watched him run fervently into the kitchen, then followed Delia and Jenny in after him. She hated this. Sure, the place was nice, and Delia seemed like a great person, but she _hated_ being forced to get to know new people like this. The nervousness that overcame her was always so _horrible_, and she never knew what she was supposed to say or do. 

    Jenny sat in one of the four chairs surrounding a circular wooden table and motioned for Misty to sit beside her. Misty hastily complied, watching Delia take a seat opposite Jenny. The three women watched in silence as Mimey scurried about the remarkably clean kitchen in his mission to make the guests tea. Misty gaped at her surroundings, her teal eyes taking in the spot-free cabinets, the neatly hung dishtowels, the sparkling wood floor, the. . .the _everything_. The Gym's kitchen was never this clean, no matter how hard she worked on it. The Waterflower sisters could make themselves a fairly decent supper, but, well. . .they weren't exactly grand master chefs. Stuff spilled. Permanent stuff. Kool-Aid coated the cabinets. Something brown and sticky lined the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. It was just your average kitchen, Misty mused, but it was _nothing_ when compared to _this_. . . 

    "So. . ." Delia said pleasantly, "Misty, have you eaten? Would you like something?" 

    Misty hated having all the attention shifted to her. She would much rather watch the Mr. Mime make tea. 

    "No, I'm fine," she answered, silently ordering her stomach not to protest. She could wait until breakfast. 

    "You sure?" Delia pressed softly. "We could order out, if you like, as it seems Ash has pretty well cleaned us out here. I'll have to go grocery shopping sometime tonight. Ash is sure to be hungry when he gets home, so do you have any preferences? Chinese? Pizza? Subs, maybe?" 

    "Where is Ash, Delia?" Jenny cut in, detecting Misty's discomfort. 

    Delia sighed. "Well, it seems he's snuck out to Level Up his Totodile down at the beach. Should be back soon, though. He knows better than to go swimming by himself after dark. 

    Misty's head perked up at the mention of the ocean and Delia, noticing the extra interest, smiled warmly. "Do you like the ocean, Misty? Maybe Ash could take you down there tomorrow while I work a bit on my garden. Interested?" 

    Misty smiled softly and nodded. That _would_ be nice. She hadn't seen the ocean in such a long time. 

    There was a clink as Mimey fetched some chinaware from a cupboard and set it before everyone. Misty sipped at her tea gingerly, watching the two older women engage in conversation over the top of her steaming cup. 

     "So what have you been up to lately, Jenny?" asked Delia politely. Jenny smiled lightly and set down her cup with a light tink. 

     "Nothing much, really. Kids have been pulling minor pranks that I have to take care of every now and then, but that pretty well sums it up. Cerulean is a pretty peaceful place." 

     "Mmm," Delia nodded over her cup. "Wish Pallet could afford more than one cop. I've lost count of how many times Ash's friends have teepeed us just this month alone." 

    Both women smiled. Jenny said something concerning gardening that Misty didn't care too much about, and the teenager quickly excused herself from the insipid conversation that ensued. 

    Her eyes wandered to the open living room and fell upon a worn, crumpled jacket tossed carelessly into a corner beside the couch—the only visible evidence that a teenage boy might live here. Whoever this Ash was, he must have been pretty tidy. She smiled to herself. Maybe she really would enjoy herself here. She doubted she would have nearly as many chores as her sisters had assigned her, and that in itself would be nice. 

    Half an hour later Misty found herself being pulled back into the discussion. Rather reluctantly, she forced her mind to abandon its pointless trek through various meaningless topics and concentrated on. . .what was it Delia had asked? Did she like. . .rhododendrons? 

     "Um. . ." She blushed brightly. To tell the truth, she didn't have any idea what a rhododendron looked like, let alone whether she liked it or not. 

     "Because I'm planning to plant a few of those later this year," Delia continued, turning back to Jenny. "Or do you think they would clash with my petunias?" 

    Misty sighed in relief as the conversation swung back to plants. She glanced at a Meowth clock hanging above the stove and watched as its curled, brown-tipped tail swung slowly back and forth, ticking off the monotonous seconds. This was going to be an extremely long evening. 

    A short burst of laugher awakened her from her daydreaming a few minutes later, and she sat up when Jenny mentioned her name. 

     "Oh, but talk of coffee must be boring Misty to death. We should find a new subject." 

    Coffee? How had they gotten from gardening to coffee? 

    Suddenly a door slammed. Mimey jumped—he had fallen asleep against the microwave—and hastily grabbed the long-empty tea cups from the table to deposit them in the sink. Delia sighed pleasantly. 

     "Well, it looks like my son is finally home," she said brightly. Misty's stomach tensed. Another new person she would be forced to get to know. "Ash? Would you come in here for a moment?" 

    Misty turned to the living room expectantly. A small section of wall obscured her view of the door, so she had to wait a moment longer before she could see Ash step into the kitchen and face his mother. 

    Sure enough, it was the same Ash from the night before—well, this time he was fully clothed. He looked a little dirtier than she had remembered, and he had a new scratch on his cheek. Misty knew he had to have been somewhere near water after eyeing his jeans, which were soaked from the knee down and looked as if they had been hastily rolled and unrolled. His chocolate eyes breezed over hers briefly before settling on Delia, who watched him with an eyebrow raised. 

     "And just _where_ were you all afternoon, young man?" 

    Misty hid a smile as Ash swallowed uneasily. "Well," he began, "I went down to the ocean to Train Totodile up a bit—" 

     "And just _when_ were you planning to inform _me_?" 

    Ash faulted. Once again, his eyes swept over Misty. "Well, I told Mimey—" 

     "Mister mime!" 

    Mimey chose that time to present Ash with a small cup of tea, holding it out to the boy eagerly. Ash sweatdropped. "Um, no thanks, Mimey, I—" 

     "Mime!" 

    Mimey shoved the saucer into Ash's stunned hands and returned to the sink. Delia, Jenny, and even Misty laughed at the perplexed look on Ash's face as he stared into the murky brown liquid. He snapped his head up and couldn't help but grin slowly at them. "What?" 

     "Nevermind, Ash," Delia laughed. Ash cautiously set the tea down on the table, watching Mimey's back for any sign that he might turn around. 

     "Well, you've certainly grown," Jenny said suddenly. She stood up and walked over to him. "How tall are you? Five-six? Five-seven?" 

    Ash grinned as she compared herself to him. He was a good few inches taller than the considerably short policewoman, who appeared even smaller without her ever-present hat. "Five-eleven," he admitted. She ruffled his midnight hair and he had to fumble for his cap before it hit the ground. 

     "_Five-eleven_?" Jenny exclaimed. "You know, the last time I saw you I could swing you around in my arms! Remember?" 

    Ash's face reddened and his eyes yet again brushed over Misty. Delia grinned from her seat at the table. "Well, Ash, considering that you were _absent_ when Jenny and Misty arrived, I suppose I should introduce you two." 

    Ash cleared his throat a little nervously and played with his hat, focusing his attention on Jenny as she returned to her chair. "We've met," he said uncomfortably. Delia turned expectantly to Misty, who nodded. 

     "Really," Delia stated. She couldn't understand why Jenny was laughing so hard. 

    Misty started slightly when Jenny stood again. "Well," she began, "I suppose it's about time for me to go. I still have quite a drive back to Cerulean tonight." 

    Misty's eyes widened involuntarily. She knew it was going to happen, but—but—Jenny couldn't just leave her here _alone_! 

     "Come on, Misty," she said gently. "Why don't you walk me out to the Jeep?" 

    Misty gratefully followed the woman. Ash stepped aside to let them pass, and she could hear Delia say something to him before the front door swung shut behind her. 

    It had gotten fairly dark since their arrival, and Misty was amazed by the multitude of stars littering the sky. Back in Cerulean she could never see this many. 

     "Pretty, aren't they?" Misty had momentarily forgotten that she wasn't alone. "Sometimes you can even make out the Milky Way," Jenny continued softly, gazing up at the sky. "You'll find a lot of things out here that you wouldn't find in Cerulean, if you let yourself. Don't be afraid to try new things. And get to know Ash; he's not your average Pokémon Trainer." 

    Misty tore her eyes away from the wondrous firmament to look at Jenny. "What do you mean by that?" 

    Jenny smiled at her. "You'll see. Just give him and his mother a chance. They're good people." 

    Misty nodded and turned her attention to the ground, focusing on sweeping the grass with her toe. Jenny smiled crookedly before pulling her into a hug, which she hesitantly returned. Suddenly a shadow fell over them. They broke apart, turning to see Delia's silhouette in the open door. 

     "You'll be fine," said Jenny softly, holding Misty's eyes. "Just have _fun_. Kick back, play videogames, smash Ash in a Battle or two. Be a _kid_ for a while. I'll call if anything comes up, all right? And you call me if you need anything." 

    Misty nodded and the officer smiled warmly. Giving her one last, quick hug, Jenny climbed into her Jeep and started it up. Misty watched nervously as the policewoman waved and sped off, disappearing from view at the street corner. 

    Misty took a deep breath before turning to face Delia, who was smiling warmly. Ash came up behind her for a moment, then turned and went off somewhere else. Delia welcomed her into the house and grabbed some keys off a hook near the door. 

     "Well," she sighed, "it's a pleasure having you here, Misty. I need to run up for some groceries quick, or we may not have any breakfast tomorrow." Misty forced a weak smile. She was _leaving_? And she was leaving Misty behind with a guy she didn't even _know_? Was she _mad_? 

     "Ash is off finding the phone book," Delia continued, unaware of Misty's thoughts. "You'll have to tell him what you like, though. It won't matter to him; he'll eat anything." 

     "Mom!" yelled Ash suddenly from upstairs. "It's not here! And I don't—ouch!" There was a loud thump. "Nevermind!" 

    Delia smiled. "Well, dear, what would you like?" 

     "Um. . ." Misty hesitated. Why did _she_ have to decide what to eat? What if Ash really _didn't_ like it? But she couldn't pause too long; Delia would think she was really nervous. And she was. 

     "Pizza or something's fine," she said finally. There. Now she was— 

     "What kind?" 

    Great. She _had_ to pick a food with another choice, didn't she? 

     "Um, pepperoni?" 

    Delia smiled. "Get a pepperoni, Ash!" she yelled up the stairs. Then she turned back to Misty. "You can watch some TV or something until it gets here; remote's in the couch somewhere. I should be home soon." 

     "All right." 

    Misty was relieved to see her go, but anxious about Ash. Sure, no guy had ever really tried anything on her _before_, but. . . 

    The TV looked good. She hadn't watched TV in, well, a while. The blue couch was comfy enough, and the remote wasn't too hard to spot—it was sticking out of the cushion she was sitting on. Just before the TV flicked to life she heard murmuring from upstairs as Ash called what must have been the pizza place, wherever that was. 

    Nothing was on except ice skating and a documentary on Slugma. Misty didn't care. She was too busy worrying what she would do if Ash came down. Then again, maybe he _wouldn't_ come down. Maybe he would just stay up there until the pizza got here—when he would have to come down anyway. It was a lose-lose situation. Misty sighed. This was going to be a _long_ stay. 

    Half an hour later Misty had concluded one thing: Slugma were _boring_. Ash hadn't come down from upstairs yet, which suited her just fine. A crunch of gravel from outside suddenly caught her attention though, and a sudden thought struck her: Would she have to answer the door? 

    There was a sudden patter of feet on the stairs. "I've got it," she heard Ash say as he stumbled over to the door. Misty looked back to see that his hair was wet and that he had changed into a plain black shirt, jean shorts, and socks. The scratch on his cheek was much less noticeable as well. He must have just taken a shower. 

    Misty listened to the brief exchange at the door and watched as Ash stepped back into the house, a couple of pizza boxes stacked in his arms. 

     "I got two, 'cause I thought whatever we didn't eat tonight we could eat tomorrow," he said, heading into the kitchen. "All we have is milk or water to drink, though." 

    Misty forced herself to follow him into the kitchen, ordering herself to just act normal. She could carry on a simple conversation, right? "Water's fine," she said aloud, taking a set at the table. Ash got out a couple plates and cups and sat down across from her. The next few moments were utter silence. 

     "So," said Ash through a mouthful of pizza, "you ever been to Pallet Town before?" 

     "No, I live up in Cerulean." 

     "Mm." There was a brief pause. Then Ash said, "You have a lot of Pokémon up there?" 

    "Just your normal city Pokémon, but if you leave town you can find some good ones. Someone recently found an Electabuzz near Highway 10." 

     "Really?" Ash looked interested. "I've only got one Electric-Type. A Pikachu. She's been gone all day, though." 

     "Where?" 

    Ash shrugged. "Dunno. Do you Train a lot, then?" 

     "Yeah, I'm a Gym Leader." 

    Ash choked on a pepperoni. "You're a _what_?" 

    Misty was confused. Had she said something wrong? "A Gym leader," she repeated. "Of Cerulean City Gym. I Train Water-Types." 

    Ash was narrowing his eyes at her, and it was making her uncomfortable. "I remember Battling the Cerulean City Gym Leader, but I don't remember you." He sounded confused. 

     "You probably Battled one of my sisters; I have three," Misty explained. Ash instantly understood. 

     "Ah," he said, "that explains it then." He smiled. "You were confusing me for a minute there." Misty returned the smile, realizing that she wasn't that nervous anymore. He wasn't that hard to talk to. 

    The rest of the conversation focused mainly on Battling techniques and Training methods. Misty felt herself slowly loosening up in Ash's presence, and was therefore much more at ease when Delia returned home with a trunkful of groceries about an hour later, which she had no objections to help carry in. 

    _Maybe this won't be so bad_, she mused to herself, setting a jug of orange juice and a box of Lucky Charms down on the counter for Delia to put away. _I mean, it's already almost ten o'clock and I'm doing fine. Jenny was right; I think I actually will enjoy myself here_. 

     "Ash, dear, why don't you show Misty up to her room?" Delia said sweetly, eyeing the clock. "It's getting a bit late." 

     "All right. Come on, it's upstairs." Ash gave Misty a short tour of the second story of their house. Misty was pleased to note that her room, the guest room, was in the middle. There was a bathroom to her left and Ash's room was to her right, which he was currently showing her. 

     "And this is my room," he said simply, opening the door. Misty looked over his arm to see the average teenage male's room: clothes dotted the floor and stuck out from dresser drawers, there were a couple pairs of shoes piled in the lip of the open closet, and posters littered the walls, some Pokémon, some music, some videogames. A low dresser on the wall to her right, next to the walk-in closet, supported a large TV connected to a PlayStation 2, which was resting on the floor next to a haphazard stack of videogames. A 3-disc CD player was on the other half of the dresser, attached to two large speakers, also on the floor. On the opposite side of the room there was a small bed in the corner, and another bed higher up and set back into the wall itself. Grooves in the wall closest the door allowed one to get up to it, though Misty could tell Ash used the lower one when she saw that practically all of his Pokémon gear was piled on the top bunk. 

     "Looks cozy," she said. Ash was leaning on the door frame, watching her. 

     "I challenge you," he said, "to a round of Crash Bash." 

     "Crash Bash?" 

     "Yeah, it's PS1, but Pikachu wanted it. She likes the way Crash looks, especially when he does a belly flop, though you can't do that in Bash." He adjusted his weight on the door. "So, you up to it? It's too late for a Pokémon Battle, but it's only ten. My internal clock won't allow me to sleep at ten." 

     "All right," Misty agreed. "But not for too long; I still need to unpack." 

    Ash grinned. "You're on. Oh, and I'm Crash. You can be Vortex or Dr. N. Gin or something." 

     "Dr. Who? No, I want to be Crash!" Misty had no idea who these characters were, as she had never owned a PlayStation, but Crash was obviously the main character. 

     "You can be his sister," said Ash, kicking piles of clothes out of the way and adjusting the speakers so that one was against each wall, facing them. Surround sound, Misty mused. Much nicer than at her house. 

    Mr. Mime watched the pair arrange themselves on the floor and battle for a while, before dashing off to tell Delia that he thought Misty would like it just fine here. 

     "Hey, stop knocking into me!" Ash exclaimed suddenly. "I have a hard enough time staying on this stupid iceberg as it is!" 

     "I'm not _trying_ to!" giggled Misty. "I can't maneuver my polar bear that well!" 

    Mimey smiled to himself as he darted down the stairs. Yes, he thought Misty would like it here just fine. And Ash finally had an opponent that could reach the directional pad and the circle button simultaneously.   
  


**

,,*/ AL \*,,

**   
  


**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** You know what? I really don't have that much to add here. I don't like this chapter much, but I can't think of anything else to write, so this will have to do. That'll do, pig, that'll do. o.O All right, please completely ignore that last statement. GUESS WHAT!?! I'm working on OYL4, so all you OYL fans out there, um, well I'll just say that **it is coming!** Much like Pokémon Sapphire and _HP5_, eh? FINALLY! Oh, I am so happy. Anywho, I think what I'll do at the end of that one is answer all you guy's questions, so start brewing up some good ones, 'cause I finally forced myself to sit down and come up with an actually plot! **Be prepared for a few surprises!** Mbwahahahahahahahaha!!!!! Oh, I am SO evil I will have ALL you people out there sitting at your various computer desks (hopefully they're more comfortable than mine; my table part is too high and my keyboard area too low to set my laptop) and gasping, then looking back and, intentionally or not, imitating Ghandi from Clone High with his infamous **"Say WHAAA?"** Oh, I love that show, but OYL's even better, so BE PREPARED! **–dances off to bed singing 'Be Prepared' from the first Lion King-** STOP STARING AT ME! 

**,,*/ Seabeast \*,,**

6 


	3. Sudden Squall

Adopted Love 

**

,,*/ Adopted Love \*,,  
,,*/ Part 3 ~ Sudden Squall \*,,   
,,*/ By Seabeast \*,,

**

  
  


**DISCLAIMER:** Why on earth do I bother with this stupid thing? 

**WARNING:** Contains exactly two curse words, I believe. And a fight. Be warned. O.O 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** OUCH! This stupid keyboard tray keeps sliding out and WHACKING me! Evilness . . .   
  
**

,,*/ AL \*,,

**   
  


    Misty smiled up into the face of the warm, soothing sun as the cool ocean spray washed over her feet, tickling her toes for a moment or two before rushing back down the beach to join the rest of the water flooding the small bay. She hooked her arms up behind her head and grinned like an idiot as a cool breeze wafted across her face, riffling through her hair and tugging her clothes pleasantly in its wake. She could scarcely remember the last time she had even seen the ocean, let alone stand in it, and the feeling was very . . . satisfying. 

    The serenity of the moment was abruptly broken, however, when Ash leapt spectacularly from a sheer cliff forming one side of the relatively tiny Cliff-Hop Bay with a cry of "COWA_BUN_GA!" 

    Misty shielded her eyes against the inevitable rain of water that followed his little stunt, then reveled in the feeling of the wave accompanying his jump as it washed over her shins, barely lapping at her knees. She hadn't been able to bring herself to actually get in the water, unlike Ash, and was pleasantly surprised by how cold it actually was in comparison to the summer's heat. 

    Ash resurfaced quickly about ten yards out into the water, flinging back his messy black hair and then turning to grin at Misty, squinting in the bright sunlight. "Come on, Misty!" he called, waving. "It's a hundred percent safe, I promise! I've been doing it since I was three!" 

    Misty was still hesitant. Ash must have seen it, because instead of waiting for a reply he did a quick dolphin-dive under the water, disappearing from view for a moment before reappearing just a couple yards away from Misty. He floated lazily over to her on his back, his hands behind his head comfortably, and frowned when he was forced to stop as his shoulders brushed up against the pearly, almost white sand of the beach. He settled in quickly, however, simply allowing the soft, rolling waves to nudge him up the beach a bit, then pull him down again in a soothing, never-ending cycle. He closed his eyes contentedly and sighed, Misty watching him from the corner of her eye as she stared out at the open ocean beyond him. He was only wearing a pair of black swimming trunks with a yellow stripe down the side that reached to his knees, as opposed to Misty's blue jean shorts and faded yellow tank top. He had looked at her funny when they left the house earlier that morning, but hadn't said anything about her choice of clothes. Misty was regretting her decision now, however. She hadn't known it would get this hot this far south, and the sparkling ocean water was looking very inviting right now . . . 

    "Ah, Cliff-Hop Bay," Ash sighed pleasantly, wiggling his toes in the water. "Best swimming hole in the area, and my mom owns it." 

    "Why's it called Cliff-Hop Bay?" asked Misty curiously, digging her toes into the soothing wet sand as she looked down at Ash's still-reclined form. 

    "I dunno," he shrugged. "Mom says it's 'cause when I was little I used to love to jump off of the cliff and all I could say was 'cliff-hop' and all I ever wanted to do was go 'cliff-hopping,' but I dunno." 

    "Mmm," was all Misty said as she returned to staring absently at the horizon, amused by a small flock of seagulls dipping and diving a half-mile or so off-shore. Hey eyes now fixed on the seagulls, she followed one as it rode a powerful thermal pocket up, up, up into the clear sky—or the _almost_ clear sky. Misty's slightly damp brows knitted when she noticed the dark, looming clouds rolling in from the south. They were still a good few miles away, but they stretched away to beyond the end of her vision, casting dark, murky shadows down on the rolling waves below them. Misty shivered, absently fingering the solitary Pokéball hanging on a thin silver chain attached to a belt loop on her side. She wasn't a country-girl, but even she could recognize a bad storm when she saw one. 

    "How long do you think it'll take for that to get here?" she asked aloud, unsure of how fast and constant the winds were in the Plains. Up in Cerulean the mountains and cliffs had a serious impact on any winds coming in from the north-west, but down here she wasn't so sure. 

    Ash peeked open one eye lazily, following her gaze to the south, and then sat up in the water completely, water dripping unnoticed from his sopping hair as he uttered a very inappropriate phrase. 

    "Ash!" 

    "Well for Mew's sake, why did a storm have to show up _today_? It's gonna be huge, too; look, you can tell by the way the waves follow it, and if you look really closely you can kinda see some lightening way off in the distance." He pushed himself up suddenly, and shook himself a little bit to dislodge some water. "Come on," he said, motioning with his hand as he stepped out of the water. "We'd better get home soon; you don't wanna be stuck out here in the middle of _that_, believe me. And it'll be here pretty soon, too, in this wind." 

    Misty reluctantly followed him out of the water's strong grasp and trudged back up the slightly-sloping beach behind him. They had abandoned their shoes at the grass's edge, and the hot sand was sticking to the bottom of Misty's feet, tickling them pleasantly and scorching them at the same time. She brushed the feeling away, however, when they reached the end of the sand. Ash shrugged his shirt back on, seemingly indifferent to the way it stuck to his back from the water, and grabbed his shoes, so Misty did the same. It was only a five minute walk or so back to Ash's house, up a grassy hill and through a short patch of trees. She could don her shoes after the grass brushed away most of the sand. 

    "So . . ." Ash trailed off thoughtfully. Misty realized he was trying to make small talk and racked her brain for something to say. 

    "Are you and your mom the only ones who go down there?" she asked. Ash shrugged. 

    "Sorta. Some guys from school like to swim down there every once in a while too, and there's a spot around one of the cliffs that's ideal for docking boats, if you want to hide something. They like to go fishing in Professor Oak's yacht and hide their spoils down there, in a small cliff next to the rock they dock their boat at." 

    "Don't you go with them?" asked Misty curiously. She hadn't missed the 'they's instead of the 'we's. 

    "I used to. But lately Gary—that's Professor Oak's grandson—he . . ." He sighed heavily, shaking his head. Misty frowned. 

    "He what?" she pressed softly. 

    "I dunno, he's just been such a _jerk_ lately, you know? I dunno." He ran a hand through his dripping hair and sighed again. "Gary has a way with people," he explained. "If he doesn't like you, nobody does. Ritchie and Todd can still be okay sometimes, but it's no fun when you're constantly at odds with Gary. Have you ever had a friend like that?" 

    Misty hesitated. "No," she wanted to say, "because I've never really had any friends," but she couldn't tell him _that_, not when she was so close to making her first one! 

    They were almost to the woods when Ash suddenly stopped walking. Misty stopped a foot or two ahead and looked back to see him shielding his eyes with one hand as he squinted up the hill. "Oh, no," he muttered. 

    "What?" Misty followed his eyes to the tree line and saw a couple boys stepping over a dead log as they exchanged the shadows of the woods for the warmth of the midday sun on the open grass. They didn't look like they had seen them yet, rather they seemed to be laughing about something and shoving each other playfully. 

    "Who are they?" Misty asked, turning back to Ash. 

    "Looks like Damien and—oh, God, _Gary_." 

    Misty's own emotions surprised her. She found herself feeling much more eager to meet these people, of whom Ash was obviously familiar with, than she had when meeting Ash himself. Ash, however, didn't look nearly so pleased. He seemed to be looking for a way to sneak away from the group without notice, but just then a shout rang out from the direction of the boys. 

    They'd been seen. One of them was waving, the other was still laughing at something. Misty turned back to Ash, but he was too busy pulling his shoes on to notice. 

    It didn't take long for the boys to reach them. One was taller than the other, with light brown hair that flipped up from back to front, lightened a bit from the sun. He had an empty burlap sack slung carelessly over one shoulder, his free hand absently fiddling with a green and gold yin-yang necklace. Misty guessed by the glares Ash was shooting him and the smug look on his face that he was Gary. As for his companion, however, Misty had no idea. She didn't think it was one of the two boys Ash had mentioned earlier though, as he was crossing his arms and grinning almost evilly. 

    "Hey, Ash," greeted Gary loftily. He was eying Misty, and she wasn't feeling very comfortable anymore. For some reason she felt vulnerable with her shoes in her hand instead of on her feet. 

    "Who's the girl?" the second boy asked, betraying his Australian origins. Misty was surprised to hear an accent. She opened her mouth to reply, but Ash got there first. 

    "Her name's _Misty_," he said defiantly, as if challenging them to some kind of duel. He stepped a little in front of Misty and took on an almost defensive stance. Misty felt a flicker of anger at this. She may be shy, yes, but they were just _boys_. She could take care of her_self_. After all, what were they going to do, taunt her? 

    Apparently, yes. 

    "Misty what?" the Australian one smirked. Again, Ash answered before Misty could, and again, Misty felt a flicker of anger, this one a bit more powerful than the first. 

    "_Waterflower_," said Ash proudly, crossing his arms. "The Leader of Cerulean's Gym. You know, Damien; the one _you_ had to challenge three times before you earned a Badge, and even then your last Pokémon fainted right after." 

    Damien's smirk wavered a little before flipping over into a downright scowl, and then Gary stepped forward. 

    "Well, Ash," he said in his lofty voice, "_I_ seem to remember sweeping the floor with the Sensational Sisters' Pokémon." His mahogany eyes narrowed at Misty. "But I _don't_, however, seem to remember _you_." 

    "Wait a tick," said Damien suddenly. "_I_ do now. _You're_ not one of the Sensational Sisters; you're the _runt_!" 

    The boys erupted into uncontrollable laughter. Misty felt the heat rise in her face, and hugged her shoes more tightly to her breast, oblivious to the sand still clinging to them. It didn't matter where she went, someone would always know who she was—or, more accurately, who she _wasn't_. Even if I go to Johto, she mused, someone there will still recognize me, and I'll still be second-best. Or fourth, she corrected herself, because she knew what the boys said was true. She _was_ a runt, and always would be. Just then, to her shame, she felt her eyes water. Not here, not now, not in front of Ash! she told herself, but it was no use. Damnit, this wasn't _fair_! 

    She tried to cover the tears up with a glare, but Ash noticed anyway, and turned to his ex-friends with a renewed hate. He wasn't stupid. They knew Misty was his friend, and that's why they were targeting her; because they also knew that he would automatically defend her, which would give them another excuse for the fight they always seemed to want, which would tip the odds in their favor, because of course Misty wouldn't fight, and of course he would lose two-to-one. If they had passed her in the street, however, they probably would have hit on her or something equally Gary-like, which made him even angrier because he knew they knew he knew her embarrassment would be his fault, because they wouldn't have picked on her if he hadn't happened to be there. 

    And such were Ash's thoughts at that moment, but, confusing as they were, he knew what he would do. 

     "I _do_ remember you now!" Gary managed to gasp between fits of laughter. "You were in the back, sweeping the halls while I Battled your sisters!" 

     "What's the matter," sneered Damien, "the Gym cleaner take the day off? Or do _you_ just automatically do his work? Because everyone knows your sisters are prettier, maybe it is best that you just hide out in the back. Otherwise you'll only make yourself look worse, compared to them!" 

    It wasn't the worst insult Misty had ever received, and it certainly wasn't structured in the most offending grammar she's ever heard, but for some reason it certainly hit home. She felt a sob rising in her chest, and only just managed to suppress it. This was so unlike her, though, and she didn't know what she was supposed to do. Walk away, she supposed, but she'd look very stupid walking to Ash's house without Ash. The boys' laughter continued, speckled sporadically with jaunts and insults aimed at her and, occasionally, her 'relationship' with Ash. The increasing wind tossed some damp orange hair across her face, but she refused to loosen her vice-like grip on her shoes even just to brush it away. Another sob rose, but she shoved it angrily away. She _hated_ crying in public, or at any time for that matter, and she wanted to kick herself for doing it now, but that only made her embarrassment worse, and worse still when her vision finally blurred over completely with tears. 

     "I reckon I would choose Ash too though, if I were you," Damien was saying. 

     "Yeah," said Gary, picking up on his trail of thought, "I mean, anyone in your position would be really _desperate_—OOF!" 

    Through her blurred vision, Misty saw Ash suddenly launch himself viscously at Gary, and together the two of them tumbled to the ground, the burlap sack flying from Gary's hands to land a few feet away, swaying this way and that with the grass in the storm's increasingly turbulent winds. As if on cue, thunder suddenly rolled from behind them, but no one took any notice. With Ash's opening attack, Damien had rushed over to pull the two apart, but instead of holding the furious fighters at bay he shoved Ash back to the ground and leaped on him himself, Gary only a few seconds behind. The three went rolling down the hill for a moment, but it wasn't long before the odds caught up to Ash and the two had him pinned to the ground, each taking turns hitting him and grabbing a limb that had only just managed to squirm out of their grasp. 

    Misty, only recently acquainted with the feuding citizens of Pallet, had no idea that this particular fight had been brewing for months, nor did she know that of all of the guys in Ash's circle, he hated these two the most. She was also oblivious to the fact that, had she not been there, this fight would probably have happened anyway, and that Gary and Damien had set off down to the beach with exactly that purpose, using the burlap bag merely as a diversionary precaution incase they were spotted by adults. All she knew was that Ash was losing an actual hit-to-hurt fist-fight, and that, apparently, it had started over her, and that he was . . . he was _defending_ her. Well, she didn't _need_ a guy to defend her; she was perfectly capable of performing that duty herself, though she was a little honored. Dropping her shoes, she wiped away her tears with the back of her arm and sniffed away any other hurt feelings brewing inside her as she allowed herself to feel the anger that had sparked earlier instead. Then she too rushed into the fray. 

    By this time Gary had Ash pinned beneath him, his arms made immobile by Gary's legs and his legs made immobile by Damien's weight, so he couldn't knee Gary in the back. Gary, meanwhile, was enjoying his triumph as Ash struggled vainly beneath him. Another boom of thunder chose that time to split the sky as it appropriately began to rain. Hard. 

    Gary was smiling, despite the puffy imprint of Ash's knuckles on his cheekbone. "How do you like it now, Ash?" he called over the storm. "No fucking Pikachu to save your ass this time, eh? Whack him again, Damien." Damien did so, Gary sitting up for a moment so Damien could reach his stomach. Ash tried to double over in pain as he struggled for breath, the wind knocked out of him, but Gary and Damien prevented that, laughing at his helplessness. And that's when Misty struck. 

    Damien, his concentration fully on Ash's agony, hadn't expected anything from behind, so Misty managed to pull him from Ash quite easily, with only a surprised yelp in return. She was reluctant to hit, though, aware that this was her first fight and that she was living with someone temporarily, out of the goodness of their heart, but she was also aware that her host's son was currently being pummeled by two bullies. So as a compromise she tugged Damien from Ash's legs and shoved him roughly down and away from Ash so he slid a bit down the now sopping hill, then turned to grab Gary, but Ash had gotten there first. 

    As soon as he felt Damien's weight lifted from his legs, he seized the opportunity to knee Gary hard between his shoulder blades, gathering up all his strength into that one blow so that Gary, surprised, toppled over. Ash levered his feet under him and, before Gary could react to this unexpected assault, kicked him off—and right into Misty. She threw her arms out to catch him automatically, stumbled backwards under his weight, and dropped him roughly at her feet, where he immediately grabbed her shins and tugged her down next to him. All thoughts of holding back gone now, shoved out by Gary's obviously unrestrained punches, the two tumbled down the slick hill, neither able to gain a solid hold on the other due to the pouring rain and both oblivious to it. 

    With Gary gone, Ash rolled to his side and curled up for a moment, still struggling to get his wind back and perfectly unaware that he had tossed Gary into Misty and that the two were now locked in what was seemingly a fight to the death. But he did remember Damien, so he struggled to his feet but only managed to get to his knees before Damien kicked him, sending him right back down again, still struggling for breath as the blades of grass beneath him seemed to swirl in and out of focus. The sky was now a dull grey, and Ash turned his gaze up to see Damien's looming frame towering above him as he fiddled with something at his belt, his legs just within reach . . . 

    In a swift, unexpected maneuver, Ash swept his feet across Damien's shins and kicked him away when he fell. Then he forced himself to his feet, blinking in a brilliant flash of lightening. He turned to look down at Damien, but came face-to-face with a growling Fearow instead as he simultaneously realized that that flash had not been lightening at all . . . 

    Further down the hill, Gary had just managed to shove Misty down and hold her arms, but was unaware that she had the leverage to snake her knees between them and shove him away enough to finally kick him, much like Ash had done. He fell over backwards and kicked out at her in return, catching her on her thigh before turning and scrambling back up the hill towards Damien and his Pokémon, who had a frightened Ash staring down his Fearow's beak, Ash's nose not even an inch away from the seven-foot bird. Ash's first-day-as-a-Trainer story was notorious throughout Pallet Town, as was his fear of Fearow, after one had chased him all the way from Pallet's edge to Rhapsody Falls, where his stubborn Pikachu had finally twisted the thunderstorm around to perform Thunder on the enraged Pokémon. Both were laughing as Ash visibly trembled, the rain running in streaks down his face and mixing with a bit of blood from his nose and an ear before dripping down to the ground. He was frozen in fear in a crouched position, unable to move, and Gary and Damien were enjoying it. 

    No one expected the ear-splitting roar that erupted behind the sneering boys, loud enough to make the trees in the distance shiver and the sand on the beach quake. Gary and Damien leaped at least two feet in the air and spun around, then backed up to Damien's Fearow and trembled as Misty's eight-foot Feraligatr took a menacing step towards them, his scaly back arched so that his long snout was even with their eyes, his mouth slightly open to reveal row upon row of long, glistening white teeth while the rain bounded endlessly from his thick, water-resistant hide. Now it was their turn to be frozen in fear. 

    Ash had tumbled backwards with the roar as well, and the Fearow had seized that chance to pin him to the earth with one taloned foot, where he now stared up at the bird in terror, all thoughts swept from his head at his current state. Misty didn't know why he was so afraid of what she thought of as a normal Pokémon, if he was a Trainer, but she didn't hesitate to release him as she stepped up behind her own Pokémon, her arms crossed and the Pokéball that had been hanging at her belt loop now rolling back and forth across her palm. She glared hard at Gary and Damien, Damien especially, and stepped up close to Feraligatr's side so that there could be no mistake as to who was afraid of who. 

     "Call it off," she said loudly, struggling to control her ragged breathing. Neither of the boys moved. "Now!" she yelled, and they jumped, not at her voice but at the way Feraligatr's angry golden eyes had narrowed as he blew a stream of haggard air from his nostrils. Immediately Damien pointed his Pokéball at the Fearow, who vanished in an instant. Ash lay very still where he was for a moment, his eyes unblinking and unfocused as he stared up into the rain. Then, slowly, his gaze fell on Misty, who was watching him in concern. He blinked and his immobility seemed to vanish. Shoving himself to his feet, he joined Misty and her Feraligatr to glare angrily at their opponents. 

     "You okay?" Misty asked him, tearing her gaze away from her frightened prey to meet Ash's eyes. He nodded and wiped a bit of blood and rain from his forehead, then ran his finger gently over a cut running through Misty's eyebrow. She couldn't stop herself from wincing at the sting. 

    "You're hurt," he said simply. 

    "I'm fine," she replied, then turned back to Gary and Damien. They were obviously waiting for her instructions, as Feraligatr was keeping them in their place with low, pulsing growls. Misty, however, had no idea what she was supposed to do now that the fight was over. She wasn't going to attack them, obviously, but they didn't have to know that. 

    Ash realized why she was hesitating and stepped forward, laying a confident hand on Feraligatr's scaled neck to give them the impression that he had known about Misty's powerful, fully-Evolved Pokémon all along. "Get out of here," he panted, still winded from his bout earlier. Gary and Damien wasted no time in turning and sprinting up the hill, angling left so that they wouldn't have to cross Ash's yard in order to get to the street. Ash and Misty watched them go for a moment, Ash in a sort of dazed spell that he didn't snap out of until Misty's Feraligatr dematerialized beneath his hand. He looked over to see her clipping a Pokéball to her belt loop by means of a thin silver chain, barely visible in the rain. Her eyes were down, occupied with her task, so she didn't notice his admiring gaze. 

    She couldn't look down forever, though, and after a moment of struggle she looked up to meet his eyes, the Pokéball now firmly secured to her waist. He didn't look away though, and she blushed under his stare. 

    "What?" she asked, as if nothing had happened. 

    "You . . . you fought with me," said Ash hesitantly, though he had no idea why. What should he be hesitant about? 

    "So?" she asked, obviously unaware that her take in the battle was unexpected. Why _shouldn't_ she fight with him, if they had been making fun of her and he was fighting for her in the first place? Wouldn't it be considered cowardly to do anything less? 

    Ash just shook his head in amazement, running a hand through his dripping black hair. "I knew a girl once, that I was helping to Train, when Gary and some other idiots started a stupid fight with me, and she just stood around and watched while I tried to fend off at least four guys by myself. I dunno if she was stupid or what—maybe you're just smart, I dunno—but she just _stood_ there, while the other guys pinned me down and everything, like some sort of _idiot_—" 

    "Wait," Misty interrupted, "you mean this has happened _before_?" 

    "Well, yeah—" 

    "Like how many times before?" Misty demanded, and Ash could tell by her tone that she wouldn't settle for anything less than the truth. She watched him as he mentally counted, his fingers ticking off the numbers, before he looked at her again. 

    "Um, I think this is the seventh one, but Mom only knows about two, not including this one, and I'd appreciate it if she didn't know any more—" 

    "_Seven_?" Misty was astounded. "This has happened _seven_ times before?" 

    "Well, actually, it's six before, seven now—" Ash corrected, but Misty wasn't finished. 

    "Haven't you ever _told_ anyone?" she demanded. Ash was confused. 

    "Why?" he asked. "What would they do about it? It's just a stupid fight, nothing to alert the media over. I mean, a black eye'll heal in a week or so, and cuts aren't so bad, and bruises can be covered up till they're gone, but . . . what?" 

    Misty was shaking her head in astonishment, and it was then that Ash realized why. This was her first fight—her _absolutely_ first fight. She'd never quarreled with anyone back in Cerulean, or if she had it hadn't been physically violent. This was her first fist-fight—and she did _good_! Without her, Ash might have been bed-ridden for two days, at least! 

    Misty couldn't understand why he was suddenly grinning like an idiot, unless an idiot was what he really was. But his gaze drifted upward then, suddenly aware of the rain spilling down from above, and he came up to grab her arm with surprising gentleness and coax her up the hill. 

    "Come on," he said simply, "We have to get home before Mom freaks and calls the cops or something. It's bad enough we're out in a storm, but we can't even clean ourselves up a bit . . ." He glanced down at his shirt as they walked, and peeled a bloodstained spot away from his chest, sighing in false disgust. "Just _look_ at this. Ruined. Not even Mimey can get that out now. And it was such a _nice_ shirt too . . . " He sighed again, and shook his head, and Misty laughed and he joined her as the two straggled up the hill, only one aware of the horrible, hospital-like treatment awaiting them at home, though he wasn't about to spoil Misty's good mood with that information.   
  
**

,,*/ AL \*,,

**   
  


    A few hours later found Ash and Misty holed up in Ash's room, Misty in the top bunk, Ash in the lower, and his PokéGear strewn about the floor. Delia had fretted and worried over them since they walked in the door, covered in rain and mud and blood, and now they were enjoying their first true break from her 'care'. She was busy downstairs, attempting to scrub the filth from their clothes before it truly set in and stained, and now the entire house smelled of Clorox and Oxy-Clean, mixed with a tangy scent from the storm still raging outside. Ash and Misty didn't mind, though. After a shower, each of them had donned some comfy laze-around clothes and gone to bed, though it wasn't even nightfall yet. Delia had insisted, though, so they didn't argue, nor did they argue when she cleared the top bunk for Misty, so that she wouldn't have to keep switching rooms to bandage them and so forth, though they felt they really didn't need the extra treatment. It gave each of them company, at least. 

    "Can you really make the cords stretch all the way up here?" Misty asked doubtfully, laying comfortably on her side at the edge of the bunk and staring at the PlayStation controllers some ten feet across the room. 

    "Yeah, if I wanna," Ash replied lazily. He was stretched out across his entire bed, lying on his back with his arms behind his head. Only one was a little bit sore, but not too much, and he still had almost complete movement in it so he wasn't worried. It didn't hurt stretched out like this, at least, though his right eye was swollen almost shut and stained a deep purplish-blue from the beginnings of a black eye. 

    "Really? What games do you have besides Crash Bash?" 

    Ash thought for a moment. "Um, every Final Fantasy, dotHack Infection and Mutation, all the regular Crashes, a few Spyro, Kingdom Hearts, Mortal Kombat, Dynasty Warriors Three, Four, and the remix to Three, and um . . . I forget what else. A lot, I know. Pikachu likes the RPG stories a lot, but I have to play for her because she can't reach L2 and X at the same time so she misses stuff. Or so she says. Granted, you don't really need to hit L2 and X in an RPG, but I've learned not to argue with her." 

    "Mmm." Misty was only half paying attention, her mind on the events that had taken place only a few short hours ago. She couldn't believe she had actually gotten in a fight—and on her first day out of Cerulean, too! She had only wanted to go down to the beach for an hour or two, maybe give Feraligatr a swim, and instead she and Ash had— 

    Her eyes widened suddenly as she realized something. Ash, preoccupied with naming off all of the annoying characters he and Pikachu had encountered, stopped mid-sentence when he noticed her. "What?" he asked, concerned. 

    "My shoes! I completely forgot about them!" 

    "Oh, is that all?" Ash chuckled. "I thought you were in sudden pain or something." 

    "What do you mean, 'is that all?' Won't your mom be furious?" She knew her sisters would be if she had wandered off somewhere and come home shoe-less. 

    "Because you forgot your shoes?" Ash asked, tilting his head to stare at her sideways. "Of course not. We can just go get them tomorrow." 

    Misty fiddled with the edge of the blanket she was lying on, her eyes down. "Are you sure?" she wanted to know. "I mean, she seemed really flustered when we got home, and she keeps coming in here and stuff to check on us . . . " 

    Ash watched her curiously for a moment, clueless as to why she was so worried. Of _course_ his mother wouldn't be mad over a pair of shoes: even if they had gotten blown away in the storm they could always just buy a new pair. Misty probably wouldn't even have to use her own money: Ash knew his mother would be more than happy to supply her with what she deemed 'necessities.' Unless she thought she . . . 

    A piece finally clicked into place. 

    "Are you worried she's going to kick you out or something?" he blurted. She snapped her head up to look at him. "I'm right, aren't I?" he continued. Then he laughed suddenly, and Misty's brows knitted in utter confusion. "Well," he said, "you can stop worrying. Mom wouldn't kick you out of here if you assassinated the Dhali Llama, I swear. She's got this disorder or something that makes her _way_ to hospitable." 

    "Are you sure?" Misty asked hesitantly, though she was relieved a little by Ash's words. "I mean, what if she thinks of me as some kind of hooligan now, after that fight?" 

    "She won't," said Ash in such a confident tone that Misty had to believe him. She sighed in relief as he continued. "You see, the thing about my mom is that she loves everyone, no matter who they are. I mean, take Gary for example: he's like the biggest jerk on the planet, but since he's Professor Oak's grandson she loves him to death. And she's loved you since I gave her the message that you called; she's under the impression that you had this horrific lifestyle at home and now thinks of herself as your savior or something. I think it's some sort of image thing." 

    Misty laughed and Ash smiled, but it faded away as he thought about something that he had wondered about since that phone call the other night. "Misty," he said slowly, his eyes on his toes, "can I ask you a serious question?" 

    "Go ahead." 

    "Would your sisters have gotten mad at you if you came back the way you did? I mean really angry mad, not mad because you could have gotten hurt." 

    Misty's answer came almost immediately, startling Ash. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't what he heard. 

    "Yeah, they would have been furious," she said calmly, returning to fiddling with the sheets. "They would probably think I ruined their image by getting in a street fight or something. That's all they're about, is image. If I do something to make them look bad they get angry because I've ruined their perfect image, but if I hang around in the background they get angry because I'm not pulling my own weight in keeping the house and Gym clean. It's a never-ending cycle." 

    Ash was silent for a few minutes, mulling over what she said as he listened to the rain beat on his window and the wind knock the tree in the backyard up against the house. Misty wasn't sure why she had said all of that—she had meant to say only the first sentence or so—but Ash was so easy to talk to that it had just spilled out. And for some reason she didn't feel embarrassed at all—and these were things that had made her blush scarlet when she told them to Jenny! Why was talking to Ash so different? 

    "Man, it must have been really bad there," said Ash quietly, his eyes still down on the lumps of his feet under the covers. Misty nodded, but he saw her from the corner of his eye. "And how long have you . . . you know, lived with them instead of your parents?" 

    "Seven years," Misty replied, equally quiet. "My parents died in a shipwreck when I was nine." 

    "Both of them?" Ash asked, startled. 

    "Yeah, they . . . they never found the bodies, or the ship for that matter. Just some broken driftwood a few miles off-course from where they were supposed to be. They say it was a storm, but . . ." 

    "You have your doubts?" Ash finished for her, meeting her eyes. He looked away again just as quickly. "Yeah, my dad died when I was seven. The police say it was an accident, but I don't think so. I mean, how does the Pokémon Master die in a public Battle, in the middle of Indigo Stadium? It's just not _right_ . . ." 

    Misty wisely kept her mouth shut at his words, since she knew she shouldn't know what Jenny had told her. She wanted to agree with him though, to make him feel better by saying that she believed his father's death was deliberate as well, but as soon as she thought it she wondered why she had thought it at all, and returned to her own musings. _Was_ Cypress's death deliberate? It certainly seemed so. But then, why hadn't the police investigated it any further? 

    "That's about the time Gary went nuts," Ash continued, unaware that Misty had spaced out for a moment. "His dad was one of the Trainers killed trying to restrain the Rhydon, and his mom died soon after, apparently from grief. I think he blames their deaths on me, since my dad's not around to point the finger at, but I can never get anything out of him. We grew up together as the best of friends, you know, till they died. We used to do everything together. He wasn't a bad guy, really, not at first . . ." 

    Ash, who seemed to be unaware that he had been speaking, stopped as his thoughts were overcome with memories of his years with Gary before the accident that had all but ruined both their lives. Misty was silent for a moment as well. 

    "Is that why you became a Trainer?" she asked suddenly. Ash looked up at her. 

    "Huh? Oh . . . no, not really. I've always wanted to Train. Pikachu was my first Pokémon; Dad gave her to me as a Pichu a few months before he died." 

    "Where is she?" Misty questioned him, shifting around on her bunk. She wanted to get his mind off his morbid memories. Ash waved a hand absently before replacing it behind his head. 

    "Oh, around," he sighed. "She likes to disappear for a while sometimes. She usually comes back in a day or two. She only left yesterday morning." 

    "Where does she go?" Misty was truly interested. She had never heard of someone allowing their Pokémon totally free rain before, at least not when the Pokémon had come back. 

    "The woods, the coast, the forest . . . anywhere she can fit, really. You wouldn't believe the amount of burs and fleas she can pick up." 

     "But will she be okay out in this storm?" Misty asked, gesticulating at the rain-lashed window. Ash shrugged. 

     "Sure, she's been out in worse. We both have, actually. But tell me about your _Feraligatr_!" he said, suddenly excited. "I've never seen one that big before! Where'd you get it? What Level was it at? What Level is it at _now_?" 

    Misty laughed at the way his manner seemed to change at the mere mention of Pokémon. Apparently her divisionary tactics had worked. "He was a gift from my parents too, before they got on that ship to France. He was still an egg way back then, though. I've done everything I can to make him as strong as he can possibly be." Ash grinned at her, and she smiled back. 

    "Me too," he said. "With Pikachu, I mean. Seems we both have family heirlooms, sorta, huh?" Misty laughed. 

    "Yeah, I guess we do," she said, her chest light. "But if your Pikachu's so powerful, and Electricity's strong against Flying, why were you so scared of that Fearow earlier?" Misty was surprised when Ash burst out in laughter at her question. She had taken a risk in spoiling his mood when she asked it, but apparently that wasn't the case at all. 

    "Was I scared?" Ash asked, looking up at Misty. She was smiling too; his good mood seemed to be contagious. 

    "You froze up completely!" she giggled. 

    "Yeah, I guess I would have, wouldn't I?" he sighed. He laughed again at the confused look on Misty's face, then recounted the events of his first official day as a Trainer. She found the entire tale highly entertaining. 

    "So you almost fell off the waterfall?" she asked, laughing. He grinned and nodded at her, then they both jumped as an enormous boom of thunder split the sky and the lights went out for a moment before flickering back to life. 

    "You two okay up there?" they heard Delia call from the bottom of the stairs. 

    "Fine!" they called back together, then burst into another fit of laughter for no apparent reason at all. 

    "Ash, are those lights still on in there?" Delia called again, and the duo could hear her start up the stairs. Ash quickly rolled out of bed, flicked the light off, and crawled back in as soon as his mother appeared in the doorway. 

    "No," he said meekly, covering himself up with the blanket. 

    "Hmm," Delia said simply. It looked like she was eyeing him funny, but neither of them could see her face in the dark. "Well, get to sleep now and no more talking, all right? It's almost eleven o'clock and you need your rest. Goodnight, you two." 

    "Goodnight, Delia." 

    "G'night, Mom." 

    She left, closing the door behind her, and Ash yawned loudly. "You tired?" he asked, staring up at the huge black space where Misty was. She yawned too. 

    "Yeah." Now that she thought about it, she was pretty exhausted. 

    "Me too. G'night, Misty." 

    "Goodnight." 

    Misty rolled over to face the wall and closed her eyes, sleep bearing down on her instantly. She hadn't been this tired a moment ago, but she supposed she should have been, what with the fight and getting up early to help Delia help her unpack and everything else she had done today. She reminisced for a few minutes before her thoughts drifted unintentionally back to Ash, though she was too incoherent by that time to really notice. 

    She had only met him yesterday, but for some reason she felt as if she had known him for years. It was an odd feeling, but a pleasant one, and she went to sleep completely content that night for perhaps the first night since her parents had been alive, aware that she had made a very good friend, one that she could trust with her true thoughts and feelings and not have to hide anything from, because he would understand. What she wasn't aware of, however, was that Ash was thinking the very same thing on the bed below her, smiling subconsciously. Yes, they had each made a very good friend indeed.   
  
**

,,*/ AL \*,,

**  
  
****

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hmm, I appear not to have been very talkative up there. And I ended this very sappily. Anywho, sorry for how long this chapter took, but I have completely run out of ideas, so if you, the reader, would like to get involved . . . E-MAIL ME WITH SUGGESTIONS! Yay, e-mails! ^^ Er, yeah, do that or write something in a Review, which is good too. Actually, I'd say it's even better, 'cause then even MORE people will notice it and go, "Whoa! This fic has a lot of Reviews, I think I'll read it!" YOU CAN MAKE THE WHOLE WORLD HAPPY, PEOPLE! Um, I don't know where that came from. I can't believe how many Reviews I have for this already, though, it's amazing! Thanks, guys! Bai for now, though, I'll try and write the next chapter as the juices flow, okay? BAI!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

**,,*/ a Seabeast that is up until 2:47 a.m.—yet again—finishing a fic \*,,**

1 


	4. Scuffle or Boogie

**,¤ Adopted Love ¤,  
,¤ Part 4 Scuffle or Boogie ¤,  
,¤ By PinkFalcon ¤,**

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm drinking a Pepsi. Do I own said Pepsi? No. Anyone who sues me for drawing positive attention to their TV show/game/manga/anime shall be properly dealt with after I finish my soda. -**sip-**

**WARNING:** I've heard that this fic is extremely slow. Well, that's true. I like it slow, though. Helps with the character interaction. And that's what this fic is all about, dammit! Character friggin' interaction! Yeah! -**sips Pepsi-**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Wow, I'm actually writing this before I write the fic . . . -**stares at laptop in amazement-** WHOO! I've been sitting on this beanbag so long that I can't feel my legs anymore! Eh, legs are overrated anyway. Anyway, as stated above, this fic will be slow because I like my development and, as stated above . . . damn, this is a good Pepsi. You know, I think this Pepsi has spurred me into trying something different for this fic . . . What if I started from someone else's POV, eh? Hmm . . .

**WARNING II: -stares in wonder-** Wowzers, I've never put a warning after my AN before . . . whoa. Shocking. Um, anyway, I just reread what I started with, and I believe this fic deserves a MASSIVE warning for language. Yes, my mates, language. Know any 18-year-old guys? If you do, then you know what I'm talking about. SO! If you don't enjoy the—gods I sound stupid saying this—the F-word and somesuch, um . . . well then, you're plum out of luck. Sorry. -**bows-** WHAT SAY YOU TO _THAT_, EH?

**WARNING III:** What's wrong with me, eh? -**points at self-** Oiya, man, what's wrong with you? Three warnings in one fic? Riddikulus, man! -**shakes head in exasperation-** Sorry, guys, but I just came back to tell you that I've plotted through this chapter, and well, I think I'm changing the rating to R as soon as I post it. It's got language and . . . other stuff. Not citrusy at all, just . . . stuff. -**shudders-** I dunno. I tried to make it realistic. I guess. -**shudders again-** This is a real warning, too. Heed it or feel the wrath of my Pancakes of Doom. O.O

**WARNING IV:** This is ridiculous, I know. I apologize. **-bows-** But I just tried uploading this, and I forgot that the ratings system has been . . . systematically destroyed? Is that the phrase I'mlooking for? Anyway, apparently the worldwide ratings system isn't good enough here, so I now have to choose between **T** and **M** (?). The problem is that **T** insinuates 13-19 while **M** suggests 20, and I would rate this about a 16- or 17+ Well, dammit. I'll stick with **T**, but for all you young, influencable **T**s out there . . . You've had four warnings. Be warned. **-manages to toddle off mysteriously without bumping into anything-**

**It's one in the morning on a Monday night. Do you know where your kitty is? O.O **

,¤AL ¤,

"Pass the Pringles, mate."

Gary sighed and grabbed a handful, then passed the can over to Damien, wincing when his bruised arm ached in protest. Damien frowned at him from over the arm of Oak's faded orange couch and grimaced when he snatched it from Gary's hands. His own body hadn't managed to make it unscathed from the encounter with Ash yesterday.

"We're pathetic," Gary said disgustedly, watching Damien chew tentatively around his cut lip. Damien looked up at him quizzically. "I mean, look at us." He waved a hand to indicate the junk food strewn all about the attic floor. "We get in one tiny scrap with Ash, of all fucking people, and look what we've been reduced to." He looked to Damien, but Damien only stared back in baffled curiosity. He munched loudly on the chips, a few crumbs falling from his mouth, and Gary threw his head back with an enraged sigh. "_Ugh_! _Look_ at us, Damien! That pitiful excuse for a Trainer _beat_ us! We're hiding out in my grandpa's attic, for Chrissake! _Binge eating_!"

Damien frowned at him, then locked gazes with the grinning Pringles man, his bewildered expression changing to one of disgust. He tossed the can down to clang against its empty mates on the shag carpet and pulled himself to his knees on the couch, absently wiping the crumbs from his shirt. "Strewth, mate, you're right! Look at us! Sittin' up here on our fat dates while him an' that filly—ooh, the filly. It was all her fault, you know. Her an' that bloody Feraligatr o' hers."

"You're right," Gary agreed, eyes narrowed. He kneaded his injured eye tenderly. "Goddam tomboys. What was her name again?"

"_Misty_," Damien fumed, carefully crossing his arms over his chest. "You know, that runt from the Water Gym up north."

"Right. Bitch."

"Bitch," Damien agreed, and the pair lapsed into furious silence.

"If she hadn't had that Feraligatr, you know," said Gary suddenly. "She was nothing without the goddam Feraligatr."

"Yeah. Goddam lizard."

"Goddam right."

"Yeah."

Silence again, with only the soft patter of rain against the window to distract their dark thoughts. Gary slouched deeper into his couch, tracing one of the many fuzzy brown polka dots with the tip of his finger, and wondered again how old his grandfather's furniture really was. The horrible combination of orange and brown suggested mid '70s, but the Pikachu-striped yellow shag carpet came across with a more '80-ish feel, hideous as it was. He focused his gaze on the single circular window instead, watching the rainwater flow down the smudged pane in tiny rivers. The noonday sun was hidden behind masses of murky grey clouds, and the heavy downpour drowned out what he knew was a field of Tauros in the distance. He sighed heavily. The rain did nothing to alleviate his mood.

"How much longer is that gonna keep up?" he wondered aloud. Damien started to shrug, then winced, rotating his left shoulder painfully.

"Wench," he growled. "She's gonna pay for using such a dirty trick." He was alluding to the summoning of her Feraligatr.

"_You_ called out your Fearow, remember?" Gary pointed out. Damien glared at him.

"That's diff'rent, mate, and you know it. Every other time, Ash has had that goddam Pikachu there to shock us all to hell every time something happened. Joey just wanted a little payback, that was all. That girl had _no right_ to get out her Feraligatr! Dirty scheming bitch."

Gary snorted. "You think anyone with tits and a Pokémon is a dirty scheming bitch. But I agree; loosing that Feraligatr was low, even for a girl. She should be taught a lesson."

"You think so?" Damien asked silkily. Gary glanced up at him; there was a mischievous twinkle in his sandy eyes. He felt his own lips twist up into a grin.

"Yeah, I do," he said slowly. "Something that'll make her think twice before trying to Attack us again."

"Somethin' that'll put 'er back in 'er place," supplied Damien.

"And Ash!" Gary suddenly remembered.

"Yeah, somethin' that'll teach 'em _both_ not to mess with us again!"

"But what?" Gary wanted to know. Damien shrugged, his eyes roving aimlessly over to the window. Gary's quickly followed suit. "The storm?" he asked. Damien nodded, grinning, and Gary's eyes narrowed. "How do you mean?"

Damien shrugged. "I dunno, mate. Jus' look at it. Would you wanna be out there right now?" Gary glanced again through the rain-lashed window in time to witness a brief flash of lightning, followed closely by a deep gurgling form the clouds. The torrent hadn't subsided in the least since its birth during the fight yesterday afternoon. Professor Oak's laboratory was once surrounded by field upon field of billowing golden grasses; now the rolling hills were smashed flat by the pounding water, sharp blades twining about each other in a myriad mess of muddy hoof prints. The herd of Ash's Tauros, too numerous to take shelter in the stable, had been recalled into their 'balls as soon as the storm began, having called the professor's attention to their predicament by stampeding about the grounds in a mad rush. Now the land was nothing more than a large basin of churned mud and small ponds. Hell to walk through, as the pair already knew. He turned back to Damien.

"Man, this sucks. Ash's girlfriend pulls a Feraligatr on us and all we can do is make them walk through some muck in a storm? Maybe we _did_ deserve to lose that fight."

"Are you insane, mate? We can't let a couple o' blokes like that get the better of us! And besides, Joey's gone and got 'er feelings 'urt after I put her away like that. Think o' how many times we've been shocked. This isn't just for this time! This's for _ev'ry_ time!"

"Still, we need to come up with something better than a trek through a rainy field—"

"I _know_ that! Crikey! But dammit, I'm mad now. That blighter tripped me! _And_ he got my Charm'nder taken away last year! He deserves _something_ in return."

"Like . . .?"

"Like . . . Ah hell, mate, I don't know! Didn't you say his ol' man got killed a few years ago?"

Gary's face went white, save the purple bruising on his cheek where Ash's fist had caught him. "Now wait a minute, Damien, that—"

"That what?" Damien demanded. "His dad was a pompous ass, you know that! He was the friggin' Pokémon Master, for Chrissake! And _your_ dad got killed trying to save him—got killed trying to save a stiff bloke from something he prob'ly deserved! Aren't you mad?"

Gary was furious. "Of _course_ I'm mad, you fucking idiot! What the hell brought that up?" He glared icily at his friend, struggling to control his breathing. Fuck. Of _course_ he was mad. Livid. Irate. And yes, of _course_ he knew that the only reason his father—mother too, really—was dead was because Sir Cypress-Fucking-Ketchum had asked him to be there for him, as extra security. As if he _knew_ something was going to happen! As if he _knew_ it would cost him his life! And then his mother . . . Ash's mom acted as if nothing had even happened! And Ash had just sat their, cuddling with his chubby little Pichu day after day, enjoying the company of his mother, while he, _Gary_, was shuffled about between his grandfather and sister, neither really possessing the time and energy to raise him and both oblivious to the way he felt about the arrangement. Fuck yeah, he was mad. Mad as hell. Ash's family had ruined his entire _life_.

Damien was clearly riled up. "Then come on, man, let's _do_ something about it."

"Like _what_?" Gary snapped.

"Like . . . I dunno. Like sending him on some big wuddyacallit, you Americans—some big wild moose chase."

"Goose," corrected Gary.

"Whatever, mate. The point is, if we kin get him outta here for a while, his girlfriend'll go too, right?"

"Yeah, so? What's the point of making them leave?"

"Are you taking the piss? What's the bloody _point_? He'll be _gone_, that's the bloody _point_! And he'll take his Pokémon with him—his Pokémon, and his 'Gear, and all of his money, and—"

"_So_? This is _stupid_."

"No it bloody well ain't! Jus' listen to me, you impatient twat! With him gone now, he'll probably miss the start of school, right?" Gary was silent. "And if he misses school, he'll have to make up later, right? Which means we'll start Training again before him! We can crush him in Indigo!"

"Damien, he took classes early. He doesn't even have to go this year—I think if he does it's optional. And I don't think he is. This plan sucks ass."

Damien looked as if a Snorlax had just sat on his happy bubble. Gary sighed heavily and threw his legs off the couch, slouching low into the cushions as his socks sought out a grip on the chip-infested carpet. His mind was stuck on the past again, on the phone call that had all but killed his mother, on the way life had never seemed able to satisfy him since . . .

Gary swept a hand through his hair and focused on the window, shoving the memories from his mind. He hated those memories, the feelings they always created. Ignoring Damien's grunt as he reached for a can of chips, Gary let his eyes unfocus so that the rain was merely a streaky gray blur, flecked periodically by a flash of lightening, then by a sort of yellow fizzle . . .

Gary bolted up on the couch. _Fizzle_? Since when did lightening _fizzle_?

There it was again: not the intense flashes from the clouds, but a soft, dreamy yellow glow from the bottom left corner of the window, towards the woods. Gary sprinted to the window as fast as his battered body would allow and stared resolutely at the mass of dark green, rain lashed trees swaying harshly in the fierce wind. There it was again—sort of like lightning, but too yellow, more like electricity . . .

Gary's eyes widened. His throat tightened. He was dimly aware of Damien's frustrated demands for an explanation for his behavior, but he wasn't sure what he said. All he knew was that his grandfather had been very busy lately designing a new enclosure for the next generation on Tauros on the way, and that it was Gary's job to take care of the Pokémon if he couldn't. And that he wouldn't have noticed if Gary had forgotten some. And that that fizzle was coming from the Mareep enclosure. And that too much water could short-circuit and kill a Mareep.

"Shit! Damien, gimme the phone!"

Damien blinked at his outstretched arm. "Eh—?"

"Now, dammit! You're sitting on it!"

Damien frowned and shifted his weight, fishing around under his cushion for something hard. When he found it, he passed it to Gary with an inquiry. "Wha'd'you need it for, anyway?"

Gary was already punching buttons. "Ash," he said breathlessly. "We need to—"

"_Ash_? What're you fucking _stupid_ ? He just—"

"I don't _care_, Damien!" Gary snapped. "There're some Mareep out there yet—I forgot about them. Grandpa's too old. I need help getting them in. Two isn't enough. Hello? Hi, Delia, is Ash there? Great, okay. Okay. Thanks."

Damien was staring at him in wide-eyed horror. "You fucking _traitor_!" he wailed. "You—_traitor_! Ash is our _enemy_, remember? Remem—"

Gary silenced him with a glare. "Pokémon out there are losing their lives," he said quietly. "I'm not going to let some damn fight kill off my Pokémon—or anyone else's for that matter. Pull yourself together, dammit! We'll get him back later! Right now we need his help! We're the only two—three, with you—Trainers in town. Are you willing to let innocent Pokémon die over a _fight_?"

Damien stared at the floor, feeling slightly stupid and extremely miffed. He could feel Gary's eyes on him. Dammit, he couldn't believe he was going out in that torrent with _Ketchum_, of all people, to help some Pokémon he didn't even own. But he knew Gary would kill him if he didn't go. So he looked up and nodded. Gary seemed to relax a bit before his eyes snapped out of focus and he straightened.

"Hello? Ash? Yeah, it's me—shut up and listen . . ."

**

,¤AL ¤,

**

Misty knew something was horribly wrong when Ash stomped back into the room and swept passed his paused videogame without glancing at her or the screen. She sat up from her horizontal position on his bed and watched in confusion as he furiously tore through his closet, tossing random objects into his room. Misty frowned when she heard him muttering curses under his breath. Bad ones. In the few short days Misty had been here she'd come to realize that his mother loathed language, and though he'd uttered the occasional "Dammit!" when a useless fodder-militiaman knocked him to the ground in _Dynasty Warriors_, he'd never strung anything together like he was doing now. In fact, Misty didn't think she'd ever heard those words used quite this way.

"Um, is something wrong?" she asked tentatively. He didn't seem to have much of a temper, but she hadn't known him for long. She had no idea what might set him off. "Who was on the phone?"

"Gary," he snapped, though not unkindly. Hurriedly. Misty frowned.

"Gary? But isn't he—"

"A small flock of Mareep got left out in the storm at Professor Oak's lab and he needs help getting them back in. We don't have much time; they've been out all night already, and some might be dead. Dammit! Have you seen a pair of pink rubber gloves?"

Misty had sat up and was now staring nervously out the window. She turned to see Ash watching her anxiously, and their eyes locked. She could see the concern in them, and then the confusion when her own hardened. She pushed herself up from the bed, never breaking her gaze.

"Do you have an extra pair?"

**

,¤AL ¤,

**

The field between Oak's lab and the large, thick copse of trees the Mareep had taken shelter under seemed, to Misty at least, one large, muddy, sticky swamp, though she was fairly certain the others wouldn't disagree. What looked like five minutes' light jog quickly became twenty minutes' hard slosh as the quartet heaved and grunted their heavy feet through the slurping mess. Sharp, stinging rain continued to rub their skin raw through their clothes and made everything they wore five pounds heavier—which was a lot, if you were wearily tramping through mud up to your calves. Misty shielded her eyes from the torrent and squinted up into the distance, trying to judge how much longer they would be stuck out in the open. In doing so she found herself falling over a thick matted glob of charcoal-white fluff.

As she landed in the mud—up to her elbows, ugh!—she was hit by the stench; the rain had kept it down before. A sickly, rotting smell surged through her nose and Misty gagged as she simultaneously realized what that fluff had been.

It was Ash who pulled her to her feet, Gary who checked the corpse for any signs of life. Misty supposed he figured the stench was enough to confirm the Mareep's demise, because he had barely knelt for a second before he surged to his feet and backed hurriedly away. Misty was using all her concentration to keep from retching.

Ash tugged her arm towards the trees, and the quartet plowed forward again, Misty rubbing the rainwater into her arms and shuddering at the thought of the dead Mareep's lifeless stench clinging to her skin. Gary picked his way closer to them, and Ash released her, though he renewed his grip on her elbow when he nearly tripped over a low wooden rail. Misty stared at the empty Mareep enclosure while Ash steadied himself and turned to Gary.

"Maybe that was the only one!" Gary's words could barely be heard over the howling wind. Everyone was bracing themselves to keep from being knocked over. Gary wiped a handful of water from his face and squinted at the ground, presumably searching for more bodies. "I'll take full responsibility" he said loudly, his face grim. "Let's just get the rest out of here!"

"How many are there?" Ash shouted as they stepped carefully over the fence and darted to the tree line. Gary shrugged, the movement lost as Ash shook himself free from as much mud as he could. It wasn't raining quite as hard under the dense leaves, but they would still remain drenched through.

"I don't know," said Gary loudly. "Four, maybe five, not including that one we already found. It was a tiny flock—that's why I forgot about it."

Ash shook his head as if angry, but he didn't say anything. Instead he looked to Damien, who was busy picking his way through the tangled foliage to a hoof-tread set of muddy tracks leading from the edge of the trees to a ridge of grass. Ash frowned. "They didn't go over that, did they?" he called out. Damien ignored him and Ash cursed. "Hey! They didn't go over that—"

"I hope they did," Gary told him, starting out toward his friend. "That old shack we used to camp out in is down there; maybe they found refuge in it. Come on."

Ash exchanged a tired glance with Misty before following. Damien's sudden yelp of surprise made them hurry faster, the long, matted blades of grass gouging shallow cuts in Misty's shins. What she wouldn't give for some long pants. And shoes, she remembered suddenly. Without hers, she'd borrowed a set of Ash's old sneakers, and they were way too big for her. It only made walking through this mess more difficult. They'd traded rows of mud for a matted mess of dead leaves and grass at the tree line.

"Hurry up, you bloody idiots, there's someone down there!"

Misty looked up sharply in surprise. Damien was crouching on the lip of the ridge and tentatively thrusting his foot out and feeling for a hold in the soft earth. Misty stumbled as she reached him, caught herself on Ash's elbow—everyone had been stumbling and tripping and catching themselves on everyone else all through the field and it was making everyone miserable—and realized she had tripped in a shoeprint. She tugged on Ash's sleeve and pointed down. He frowned when he saw it.

"They lead over the ridge," Gary pointed out, noticing their gaze. "Look." He crouched and traced a slick dip of mud on the lip of the ridge. "Guy must have slipped and gone over. Slid all the way down."

"Is he okay?" Misty wanted to know. She peered over the hill and swallowed when she saw a man's crumpled form on the forest floor; his right leg was jutting out at an uncomfortable angle.

"Broken leg," Ash muttered. "Come on, maybe he needs help."

He bounded over the edge. Misty felt a flash of fear for him and Gary yelled, "Ash, you _idiot_!" before sticking his own foot in the mud and sliding down slowly, hand acting as a rudder to keep him balanced. Damien, still posed to go down beside Misty, shook his head and muttered, "Bloody showoff," before slipping down at his own slow, wobbly pace. Misty's eyes were still on Ash; he'd used the mud as a wave and surfed his way to the bottom like an expert. She wasn't far behind, though her descent left her much more haggard and muddy than the rest of them. She _hated_ mud.

Ash was crouched at the man's head, lightly tapping his pale cheeks and talking to him while Gary peered over Ash's shoulder and Damien stood sopping at the man's feet, looking uneasy. Misty watched his face turn green as she took her place on the other side of the man's head and helped Ash attempt to bring him around.

"Is he . . . dead?" Damien choked out. Gary checked the man's arm for a pulse.

"No, just unconscious, I think. It might be just a broken leg." He set the arm on the ground hurriedly. Misty saw him rub his fingers together with rainwater afterward. He certainly appeared dead to everyone, and his skin was clammy.

"Come on, man, wake up," Ash prodded. Damien took a step back.

"I'll um, I'll just go fetch some help, shall I?" he said sickly, and started up the hill.

"Hey—Damien!" Gary choked out, but the Australian was already slipping his way up and down in the mud. "Damien!" Gary roared. "At least get the Mareep! _Ugh_! Stupid foreigner—" The man moaned suddenly and Gary's jaw snapped shut. All eyes steered back to the grunt.

"I think he's coming around," said Ash excitedly, and Gary snorted.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. Anyone else notice his clothes?"

Ash and Misty's gaze fell to the red insignia on the man's black shirt and both froze. The capital letters **TR** blazed back at them, splashed in mud and torn in a few places.

"Ugh, my leg . . ."

Ash's attention drove away the anger that had welled up at the sight of the man's insignia and his gaze snapped back to the man's face. He renewed his attempts at reviving him and did his best to ignore the fact that this man could have been at the Stadium that day . . .

"Oh, God, what the hell is that?" The man was swiping at his face, where cold rain continued to pound his skin. It was a wonder he hadn't drowned in it.

"Rain," Ash explained patiently, and clasped the man's clammy hand in his own. "You slipped and fell and broke your leg, and we found you. Are you all right?"

The man groaned and brought his free hand up to rub at his temple. "Fuck no," he moaned. "The hell are you? Sam?"

Ash blinked, startled by the mention of Professor Oak—or was Sam his partner? "No, I'm Ash Ketchum. Please, sir, open your eyes so we can—"

"Ketchum!" The man's bloodshot eyes snapped open and stared unblinking at Ash, who found himself staring right back, surprised at the fear evident in the man's voice. The Rocket grunt flinched and tried to back away, his grimy face paling as his leg slid a few inches in the mud. Ash glanced at Misty, but she looked just as confused as he was. "No," the man pleaded, "no, please, you're dead . . . Get away!"

Ash's eyes snapped back to the man's face and he froze, his brain stuck on what he had just heard. It was like a broken record in his head. "Please," said the man quietly, "please, just leave me alone . . ."

Ash was breathing heavily, his gaze hard. this wasn't the first time someone had mistaken him for his father—a fact he was rather proud of—but it was the first time he'd spoken with an actual member of Team Rocket and the first time he'd heard from an outside source that his father's death may have been deliberate. Had this man been _there_? Had he helped develop some sort of scheme to murder his father? Did he know something if someone had? Ash's breathing quickened as old, familiar questions buzzed through his mind. Here was his chance to get answers to the flood of questions that had been plaguing him for years. Here was his chance to finally discover why his father hadn't been there for the last eleven years of his life. If Team Rocket had had something to do with it . . . this was his chance to figure that out.

It was Misty's choked cry that focused Ash's attention on the present again. Like wading through a Muk, he slowly sifted his thoughts to one side and lifted his eyes from the man's face, then jerked in surprise when he saw Misty's teeth sunk into the thick arm of a man who was attempting to grab her from behind. A smack caught his attention and he saw a muddy handgun half sunk in a puddle at his feet. The big man howled and attempted to pry her canines from his skin. A grunt from Gary alerted Ash that he too was engaged in battle with a big man; both of them were grappling over a handgun as more men trickled out of the rain-swept shack behind. All were wearing the same jet black, waterlogged uniform emblazoned with the same two crimson capital letters. Ash's heart clenched and he lurched to his feet, trying to keep the majority of them in view as his hand reached automatically for his waist. If only Pikachu were back . . . his mind struggled to form a quick plan without the missing mouse.

He'd forgotten about the injured man. He remembered now, as a weak hand gripped his ankle and yanked him from his feet, splatting him roughly into the mud and knocking the breath from his already bruised and battered ribs. He lay there for a moment, his muddy world spinning as he dimly recognized Misty's pained yelp and Gary's desperate cry for Damien. Ash looked up to see a pair of fuzzy heads twine about each other before settling into one; Damien was watching from the top of the ridge. He turned and bolted.

"Fuck!" Ash heard Gary roar. Someone laughed at their friend's cowardice, and Gary's angry retort was cut short by a loud thwacking sound. Ash struggled to pull himself up to his feet—what the hell was going on, this was all happening so fast, why were these men even here—but he had only reached his knees when a heavy fist thumped his back and set him sprawling once again. Misty called out to him and then growled a very powerful insult before she too was cut short. There was a slight pause in which Ash tried to grasp a coherent thought. His entire back was one large, throbbing bruise, and the pain seemed to be occupying the whole of Ash's mind.

Cold, hard metal dug suddenly into his spine and a large hand gripped his collar and hauled him roughly to his feet. A man grunted, "Get up," and he was shoved over backwards. His arms flailed wildly about for something to catch himself on, but there was nothing there, and he fell with another pained grunt onto a pair of scratched, mud-spattered legs that disappeared into his old pair of sneakers. Misty. She was staring wide-eyed into the barrel of a pistol.

There was a squelch of mud and suddenly Gary smashed into them. Ash could hear the men laughing as the trio fought to disentangle themselves from each other. None of them dared to stand; they were surrounded by a circle of maybe ten Rocket grunts, each drenched through and holding some sort of firearm. A tall, thinnish-looking blonde man waved his rifle near Gary's head, who flinched, and barked orders to strip them.

Three men rushed forward immediately and Ash cringed instinctively back against Misty and Gary, who, in turn, were cringing back against him. One grunt took each of them. Ash's kept his gun leveled at Ash's head while his free hand fumbled at the PokéBelt around Ash's waist. He did a quick sweep for any extras under Ash's dripping jacket and, satisfied, grinned and backed away. Ash kept perfectly still and managed to sit through it by attempting to identify the type of gun being pointed at him; he failed. Pokémon were his fascination, not weapons.

Misty stiffened at his back suddenly and Ash turned in time to see her grunt's shocked face as she smacked him. But the grunt's surprise quickly turned into anger and he backhanded her into Gary as if she were a stuffed animal. Gary caught her and inched both of them away from the gun the angry grunt was now leveling at their chests.

"Not yet, Sam," the blonde man warned, his voice tinted with a hint of a British accent. Sam cocked his gun.

"Bitch slapped me," he growled, and pressed the barrel to the base of Misty's neck. She matched him glare for glare, but Ash could hear her breathing heavily through her nose, and her face was as white as her grip on Gary's arm. Ash squeezed her arm reassuringly, but what he was reassuring her of he wasn't sure.

"Hell, Sam," chuckled the thin blonde, obviously the leader. "I would too, if I felt your grubby hand on my ass. But let her alone for now; you'll get yours."

Sam grinned and tapped his gun twice on Misty's collarbone before he backed away to join the circle. He tossed her 'Belt unceremoniously on top of Ash and Gary's and looked to his leader for further instructions. The leader was watching the trio through narrowed eyes.

"Well," he said softly. "Well. Wasn't expecting company on this little adventure. You got those sheep secured, Larry?"

"'Bout as secured as kin be, Boss," a country-bred voice answered.

The leader turned to the man on the ground. "All right there, Tee? What's the matter?" Tee was still staring at Ash as though Ash were going to murder him with his laser-vision at any moment. The leader looked from one to the other before his gaze settle on Ash. A crease appeared on his forehead. "Do I know you, kid?"

"It's Ketchum!" said Tee frantically, pointing a shaky finger at Ash's chest. "He's back! It's his ghost, come back to—"

"Shut up, you fool!" the leader hissed, and lightly kicked Tee's injured leg. It was enough. Tee sucked in a startled breath, his eyes widening, and turned green. The leader turned to peer at Ash, his eyes two narrow slits. All around him his men had begun to fidget. They were all watching Ash carefully.

Suddenly the leader straightened to his full height and laughed. His men shuffled all around him, a few trying out weak smiles and nervous chuckles. "You twit!" he guffawed at Tee. "That kid? Ketchum? Christ, he's not even half the guy's age." Still chuckling to himself, the man leaned close. His gun never wavered.

"Say," he said with a grin," you sure do look like the bloke, I'll give you that. Think he was from around here. You a Ketchum, kid?"

Ash met his gaze squarely, but internally his mind was reeling. Just what was going on? Just ten minutes ago he had been traipsing through a muddy rain-drenched meadow, and now he was being held at gunpoint by members of Team Rocket! And they had—the man on the ground had said—

Ash shook the suggestion from his mind. Now was not the time to get answers, much as that knowledge pained him. These men were obviously not supposed to be here—well, duh—but they had obviously not expected anyone to show up. Which meant, what? That they would leave quietly? That they wouldn't have to hurt the professor to escape? That they wouldn't go looking for more trouble?

That they wouldn't leave any witnesses. The realization hit him like an angry Golem, and his mind reeled.

The leader grinned and lifted Ash's chin with the barrel of his gun. Ash swallowed hard and tried to ignore the overwhelming impulse to knock it away and lunge at the man. Would it even matter if he was shot in the process, since they were just going to kill him anyway? He had a sudden vision of himself jerking as bullets from the group of watching men ripped through him, and he shuddered. Better to bide his time. If he had any left.

The leader's bright green eyes watched him carefully for a moment, then suddenly glistened in recognition. "You _are_ a Ketchum!" he exclaimed gleefully, turning Ash's head from side to side with his gun. Ash did his best not to move. "And not just any Ketchum, either," the leader went on. "You're the bugger's own _son_!" He grinned widely and traced Ash's dripping chin with his gun. "Blimey. Fancy meeting you here. The PM's own little whelp. About my son's age, too. Sure grown since I seen you last, though. Pity you can't grow up nice and big and die in a Battle and get your name all over the evening papers like your old man, but we can't let you scamper off and tell everybody we were here."

He cocked his gun. His men grinned at each other and suddenly the forest was filled with a dozen soft clicks. Ash paled. This was it. Unless he magically came up with a solution right now, this was really it. And he couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't get at least one of them killed.

One of Ash's hands found Misty's, the other Gary's. Both were as weak and trembly as his own. The trio pressed closer together, Ash's mind still careening desperately about for some way out of this. His thoughts were abruptly scattered when the leader pushed himself to his feet and pressed his pistol firmly to Ash's temple.

"Ah, well," he sighed dramatically, and stepped to the side. Ash's breathing quickened. Wasn't there any way out of this? His thoughts flew to his mother, his friends, his Pokémon. They'd never see him again. They'd be devastated. He couldn't let this happen. The leader shrugged, seemingly in answer to Ash's inner turmoil, and grinned, radiating excitement. "Ironic. Dear old dad couldn't keep his head out of the badger's hole either, and he got it swiped off. Like father like son, I suppose," he murmured, and Ash's eyes widened, then filled with rage. He refused to look away.

The leader squeezed the trigger.

A shot split the air, and an inhuman scream. Misty and Gary cried out at the sound, and Ash felt a zing of air whisk by his nose. He fell back against Misty and Gary, dazed and more than a little confused. He watched numbly as the leader cursed and struggled to regain his footing in the slick mud.

"The bloody hell . . ." The man's voice trailed off as he stared at three deep gashes marring his arm with the gun. They were bleeding profusely, the red liquid washed quickly to the ground with the pounding rain. It dripped steadily onto a clip, the one from the leader's own pistol. His men didn't seem to notice; they were staring at the sky, where the sharp Battle-cry of a Pidgey was piercing the air. A low howl followed shortly, and a series of sharp barks.

"The police!" someone cried, lowering his gun and turning to flee. "Run!"

Ash was suddenly aware that he hadn't breathed in several seconds. He did so now, his lungs taking in the oxygen as a wave of sheer relief flooded his brain. The police. Thank God. They were saved.

"No, you fools!" the leader cried suddenly, scrambling to his feet. He was too late; the men had already broken their circle and were clambering for the trees. The Mareep bleated loudly from behind the old shack as the men shoved past them, and Ash grinned; it didn't sound as if the men had thought to grab any of them. The leader looked panicked. "Stop!" he howled. "We need to get Orr out of here! _Dammit_!" He turned and looked up the hill where someone was dismounting a Fearow. Ash's heart leapt.

"Damien!" he shouted happily, and then froze at the sound of the leader jamming a fresh clip into his gun. He turned to see it aimed at him again, though unsteadily. The leader was hesitating. He took a step back and nearly tripped over his injured companion, but immediately caught himself and glared at Ash, then at Damien, who was sliding shakily down the muddy hill. His bright green eyes darted between the two.

"Shit," he growled, and with a grim look on his face he swung the gun around to Tee, who seemed startled at this new turn of events. "Sorry, mate," he apologized, then fired and ran.

**

,¤AL ¤,

**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I hate this chapter. No really, I do. It's one of those that needs to be posted, though, to further the plotline—and there is a plotline, dammit! -**stares at blank page entitled 'Plotlines'-** At least there will be. Soon. I started one in me noggin. -**grins- **

**AUTHOR'S NOTE II:** I get a kick out of starting new **AN**s for no reason. But yeah, I do have some semblance of a plot now, and no, it won't follow along the lines of this chapter in its . . . its intensity, I guess you might say. It'll still be a laidback sleepy Pallet Town fic like I originally intended, only now they have something to do in their spare time. So don't give up on me just yet! I have a puppeh under my knee. -**stares at sleeping puppeh-** She loves meh. -**pets sleeping puppeh-** Ooh, Vash's theme song just started up in Winamp. -**jams-**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE III:** On with the actual, er, information. Hmm . . . I don't remember what I was going to say. -**makes cool hand gestures with the whooshy sound in the song, then jams with the slap bass-** RIGHT! I remember now! Er, no I don't. I'm actually just procrastinating on starting the next chapter. -**attempts to whistle with the piccolo-** I suppose I should go now. Go start it, I mean. Now that Vash's Theme is done. ONWARDS, TO THE BATMOBILE! -**trots off in cloud of mysterious smoke-**

**,¤PinkFalcon ¤,**


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